Wood Chipper Trio

~The Analytic Continuation of Change

We dream of finding meaning
In the meaningless,
Since it’s the only place left

We haven’t planted
With crop after crop
Of harvestable meanings.

We worry about
Meaninglessness as farmers
Once worried about the woods,

As cartographers
Worried about blanks, as wasps
Must hunt down ripe, empty figs.

A cosmos carrying on
Without meaning is just wrong.

~Reeking of Angels

Hardly wise, hard to be wise,
Says the wit who knows what’s hard.
What a cowardly bastard
A wizard, a wise one, is.

The magic of mathematics
Works well but stinks of demons
And metaphysicians,

And too many scientists
Weaned on prediction
Conjure unaware

Prediction is just the best
Magic magicians minted,
Lost wizards, staggering drunk
On stars, reeking of angels.

~Something’s the Matter with Dying

God’s darling, death, life’s bastard
Offspring of hunger and waste,

Inevitable constraint
On how far beings can change

Without losing the desire
For more, without becoming

Once again part of the world
That desires nothing,

Consumes nothing, makes no waste,
Are you any more real than breath?

Life’s darling god, creator
Of good things to eat,

How did matter come longing
To become what you could seize?