To be conscious
is to notice
that you're going
through the motions.
But to glimpse
from whom those motions
originated
in the first place—
that is a whole different
kind of recognition.
*
will always take
the shortest
path to its
destination.
Setting aside
the whole quagmire
of design,
what does this say
about living
in the moment?
*
By a radiant
glow, I see you
clothed in the music
which, both raised
as Christians, we used
to call dissonance—
naked, that is,
and with
parodies of permanence
racing down the infinite
lengths of your skin;
"Enjoy the journey,"
for instance,
tattooed sarcastically
backwards across your
unlimited face.
