She Stands Alone She stands alone,   a single bulb lighting   an entire room,   the walls curved   into her private sphere.     No doors.   No windows.   No-one can break in.   Her world is the only world   and all things lie within her scope,   sealed within her soul.     Solitary appetites   she pursues   in consecrated isolation,   in this her sacristy,   her prison, her cell —   an inside   with no conceivable outside.

Private Language In / creasing thought, the self   doubles / folds  inwards,  suppose a private language  against the world’s shared grammar —   self-authored, a book   written for no .  one.    A page     torn away, stains     in the margins, a footnote    wrongly numbered, the letter ‘i’    faintly printed.      Such is the pain of the man  who yearns  for his whole self   between the covers of biography   and meets only   estrangement.

Wittgenstein's Willing Subject: How the Happy Life Is the Only Right Life (Part Two) New monograph on Academia.edu (DOC) Wittgenstein's...

What the Mirror Said     I am the image and you are the body.  In the mirror we appear complete;  We are whole: two as one.  For a few...

Without division or interval, the body appears as pure form over content, surface without depth.

A Subject without a Code gazoom: a new section opens up undertones of black subterranea. reconstructed man exits the door, passes into...