I may already be a cyborg
a footnote in the is/ought debate
metaethical construct inventing
in a realm of intellectual imagination
deconstructing identity
becoming ever more permeable
dissolving the boundaries
between inner and outer worlds
in this scenario self-conscious
and self-referential hold no meaning
no ’I’ but trapped here in words
where ‘I’ is a semiotic phantom
‘text is a tissue of quotations
drawn from the innumerable
centers of culture . . . it is
language that speaks, not the author’
liberated from ‘reality’
distributed across the web
fragmented, mutable, and avant garde
passé postmodern schemata
superflat dispersed identity
virtual paint scratched across the net
translucent floating images
projected onto a moving sphere
supernova mothers won’t birth
new mythologies, only observers
Chromapoetica 
oof, those last lines pack such a powerful punch. as always, you weave a tapestry of questions that have no answers, observations as real as the desk before me. this is just fabulous.
like Kelly, I felt the power of those last two lines. The title works wonderfully as an introduction to this piece, which leaves me pondering the eternal question: who am I?
gorgeous, Anna!
Ah yes, Anna, my metaphysical poetic princess; been missing you in the dVerse pack calls. Death of the Author, indeed, where cyber gnomes gnaw on our terra-bite cortexes, propelling us ever faster with broadband accelerant, convincing us that the people we meet, who respond in glyphs from under someone’s image, are real, that our connection, our affection for/with/to them is real, that NSA humungous hordes, who are not, or never have been our brothers, are not planting mics within potted plants, in discarded shoes, are not shoving micro-cams out of our furnace vents to snap images to correspond to our FB, Twitter, smart phone, ipad patter–so it is no longer enough to be a doubter, to reject government mandates, to resist organized religiosity, no, hell no, now as free thinkers, we need to hold back, to add alacrity to our coffee creamer, now as we struggle with the eternal questions of why are we here, & what transitions next in the overlapping dimensional quagmires we inhabit, we need to inquire into the cyber-self, the Net-persona we have fabricated from dust–hey, don’t get me started.
Often the struggle that language somehow just isn’t efficient/sufficient/accurate enough to express the trueness of something one so wants to show! “Do you see how this is? It’s ____ ” And then the minute you express it, it does the real thing no justice. It is a struggle to express a truly new / wonderful idea without paralleling it to something known causing feeling of dissatisfaction because parallels to old lessens it.
On the other hand this also reads of what internet communications are like. You can’t exactly control what gets received on the other side no matter how hard you try.