Philosophising woodpigeon
poses existential questions
each and every morning, without … fail:
Who do-you think you-are?
Who do-you think you-are?
Who do-you think you-are? Who?
My very sense of selfhood’s
undercut repeatedly,
I really doubt I ever … knew.
Before I make my own quietus
feathered Plato shifts next door,
interrogates our neighbours … who
will too, in their turn, have
identities belittled by
his nauseating bill and … coo:
Who do-you think you-are?
Who do-you think you-are?
Who do-you think you-are? Who?
Zenrinji 