POEM: I am! Am I?

I am!
Am I?
What I?
Who is I?
I the me, or I the lie.
Where resides this sly I?
Is it fleeting and formless,
or seemingly seamless?

Somedays you see me,
but can you know me?
How can you know me?
If I’m “X,” the unknown?
A grounded plane
that remains unflown?
If I’m a tank
of grinding gears?
A blanket woven
sum of all fears?

I the river.
The bag of molecules
varying year to year.
In flux.
A current pulsed
through a wire—
a live wire.
Whose hum is felt
down a stringless string.

Who Am I?

“I” am a collection of cells.
some  expressly invited by “my” genes
others are interlopers,  “my” guts their cross-town bus
but these interlopers defend “me”  daily
fending off worse marauders
so “I” let them stay inside “me”
“my” greatest shame? “I” am a slave owner.
the  mitochondria in “my” cells  are trapped and  forced to serve “me”
all this begs one fundamental question,
am “I” really just a “me?”
or  a  whole society?

If “my” parts
needn’t be fully integrated
where do “I” end and “you” begin?
can “I” say that “I” have been everywhere?
well, everywhere on this tiny, spherical-ish speck of galactic dust?