Morality and law (and Salinas)

"Almost all the categories that we use in moral and religious judgments are in some way contaminated by law: guilt, responsibility, innocence, judgment, pardon.... (sic)" (Giorgio Agamben Remnants of Auschwitz 18).

What do y'all think of this idea? It seems to me that it may be misframed--that morality and law are in some sense similar and overlapping sets of principles for social behavior, or that perhaps law is dependent on morality.

A couple of responses to some of your previous comments:

A) Mike, can you reproduce the obscene doodle you found and post it?

B) To include a link in a post, click the chain icon at the top of the post window. You have to position the text of your link between the first ">" and the second "<".

C) I love La voz a ti debida. It's one of the best books of love poetry I know. However, the masculine voice raises questions not addressed by an appeal to readerly empathy or understanding--the faculty that allows us to read texts from the past as if they were present-day. I'm referring to "Me estoy labrando tu sombra," which could be read as praise of the spirit of the beloved, transcending the physical, and as fear of sexuality and the need to quiet it before reaching a state of non-physical veneration like courtly love. But, it is also manifestly a handbook for torture in its violent mysogyny. Why must the poet violently dismantle the woman's body to achieve peace?

Me estoy labrando tu sombra.
La tengo ya sin los labios,
rojos y duros: ardían.
Te los habría besado
aún mucho más.

Luego te paro los brazos,
rápidos, largos, nerviosos.
Me ofrecían el camino
para que yo te estrechara.

Te arranco el color, el bulto.
Te mato el paso. Venías
derecha a mí. Lo que más
pena me ha dado, al callártela,
es tu voz. Densa, tan cálida,
más palpable que tu cuerpo.
Pero ya iba a traicionarnos.

Así
mi amor está libre, suelto,
con tu sombra descarnada.
Y puedo vivir en ti
sin temor
a lo que yo más deseo,
a tu beso, a tus abrazos.
Estar ya siempre pensando
en los labios, en la voz,
en el cuerpo,
que yo mismo te arranqué
para poder, ya sin ellos,
quererte.

¡Yo que los quería tanto!
Y estrechar sin fin, sin pena
—mientras se va inasidera,
con mi gran amor detrás,
la carne por su camino—
tu solo cuerpo posible:
tu dulce cuerpo pensado.