Consciousness
by Jane Miller
A massive shadow of hubris
crashes through a universe of thorns
having no feathers but smooth skin
and wingflaps of nearly transparent
lugubrious membrane
there’s lightning by firing of eyes
thunder by flapping of wings
cowboys leaving a trail of moonshine
fire at the heart of it
while the legend disappears
rumors persist of a big dead bird
nailed to a barn with a mighty span unfurled
and several men posed under it for scale
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Wow! This may be the origin of consciousness: something that may have been indescribably fabulous now grandiose and excessively sad for having entered a structured realm, “nailed to a barn” with “several men posed under it for scale.” Makes one want to stop thinking. Great job!