Completely

You’ve been thinking a lot about entropy,
Recently. That will get you nowhere.
Your fellow social beings might reward you

For thinking about them more, about
Character, drama, justice, unfairness, plot,
Important stuff, but no, you strip the bed

And think about the dissipation of energy,
The accumulation of entropy in your veins,
In atmosphere surrounding cooling towers

For giant data server farms, in the gaps
Between this spinning bead smoking gas
And magnetism and the next hollow over.

It would kind of queer the deal, you think,
Of the arrow of time and all that, if
There were no closed systems to decay

Conmuse

Faith offers answers you can’t hardly question.
Science asks questions you can’t hardly answer.
Poetry confuses answers and questions.

That’s too cute, but there’s a swing to it, part fact,
Part nothing but abstract wordy rhythming,
And that’s what we mean when we say we’re confused.

We are not the laws of physics. We are not
The full moon setting in silhouetted pines,
Not God’s ghost in the lake. But here they are us.