WELL LET’S SAY THE WORLD

Well let's say the world
unending the bones
reanimate the pain dries
on the bones and may
be sanded off a millenium
or two scores settle and
forgiveness becomes a cosmological constant
in the abattoir of silence
between two stars: momentary
tinkle of harp
the pain comes back the
world remembers itself to
itself long enough to
hurt someone white
dwarf ashes into rubble
whose job is it to sort
ego from antimatter?
for what remains of
time optimism was
a gymnastics pose
landed once landed
and landed and landed
and then never

IRA POETICA

lately entropy has
liked to clown in
the oddest corners,
slicing up hedge
sparrows on razor
wire

every poem is or should
be dedicated to a friend
i'd leap in front of a
quadcopter for. i'd answer
an unknown number for,

in the south
why did the poem,
which should only concern
itself with ego-death,
ever shake awake a bear
like entropy?

i'll admit i was a
a mutilator of your corpse;
i saw it and let the
glamor of personhood
pop to ribbons

incredibly i might still
run miles & more
miles and find concrete
in tight square pack beneath me

rubble is a store
of entropy. the word is
banned from this poem.
play the universe back
in reverse and find what you
will find
i think it is a confession