Tuesday, January 24, 2023


Are we just 
the sum of our 
everyday actions, or 

is there more—by which 
I mean 
less? I mean: 

is our whole purpose 
just those behaviors 

which we repeat 
without thinking 

like automatic 
crying, or some 
nest-building instinct? Or

is it better expressed 
the other way around:

those tics, fits,
and movements 

ordained to us 
by elsewhere—

by a past whose 
unwanted touch
we all share, but which 

still is no more real to us 
than the worst shit 
on Netflix—are those 

our blessed and 
mandated missions? 
Shall they choose 

our occupations? 
Comprise our 
life's work?