the luck of the way

the cutting   of the cord
sets us into
motion
and
from then on
it’s a freewheeling
happenstance of
action
which
formulates the
outcome of
what we will
be
won’t
be
or
were.

I keep
pouring drinks
drinking them while
thinking about all this
unfolding
followed by the
folding which makes
man
plant
bird
fish–all
that–equal
in a
sense.

in another
sense
I think it’s total
crap
and would like
to
break out of this
trap
this
mould

this
awful
blessedly arranged
bellybutton
lostness.