singing anthems of glory
and songs to impress,
I form words with my mouth
loud and “convincing” to those
marauding machines
whose mechanistic noise exists
only in the background,
just some grand cog wheel
forever turning without
guide or direction or evaluation.

such shallow perusing
of the creative impulse
results in a solely external
projection: a fake continuity
connecting mind to body.

but even shallow swimming
can have its existential consequences
on occasion.

like this morning when I shivered
my way through the Our Father
and my heart fluttered with Grace.