dammed self!

what of identity, then?
is it a fixed thing, or fluid?
self, no self, shifting self?

i dilute, like water-color
drop of paint assuaged by water.
but how do i know, then, it's me?

one simple thing: my mouse
goes out, and i am suddenly
without connection, without hands.

my every thought is dammed,
my constant curiosity is still
plugged in yet impotent.

will i disappear? or
spend some time remembering
i will come back, i'm already there.

when connections are severed,
if you feel selfless you are
looking in the wrong direction.

1810

.生て居るばかりぞ我とけしの花
ikite iru bakari zo ware to heshi [no] hana

just being alive
I
and the poppy

Issa

tr. David G. Lanoue