proud to be a failure

 I proud for failure.

like the bird who refuses

migration or murmuration,

like the fish out of school,

as a separated lone wildebeest,

as a slow cat who can't eat.

Just like a lone renegade academic

fumbling and bumbling on a solitary

walk, trudging, willfully 

like Werther, walking into his fantasy,

like Rousseau's reveries around Paris,

Solitary,

like Beethoven's composing in his mind

while walking, arboreally,

 each foot kissing the Earth

Like Thay,

like Beckett, falling down and failing

and falling, failing, flailing, tripping

down down down

like Zarathustra down-going

like Christ on the cross

like St Peter upside-down, failing, 

to be crucified incorrectly,

like any splintered, fractured group or individual,

walking tripping falling forward

falling face-first, a flatly fumbling fool...

I fall and fail and trip and splinter off

proudly

ready to be eaten by circumstance and misfortune

not following

not in tow

veering the wrong way

going wrong wrongly wronging,

falling failing tripping face fall fool fumble

forward into precariousness and an unknown realm,

myopic and unsure