I am left to wonder...
will I be inevitable
like the basil I just buried?
Will I be gone sooner
rather than later?
In the great volcano chain
that started with fish
crawling out of the wet ether,
and meets me here
on land
in the foul middle.
what is the future exactly
of it is always unraveling?
like a table cloth
under a never ending feast
of fortune and crumbs,
my life is a note on the piano
in the corner of the universe.