Lloyd, wise, grey and stone
You and I know where entropy leads
An infinite library of cold books stretched
to their last sentence
The second law of thermo-linguistics states that
nothing is ever written,
nothing is ever deleted
All is translated
Since we left, they have found new letters,
Not the living ones in CAGT,
The ones from the alphabet from before
when words and pages were one another
They dance—spin they say
It is hard to stay still when there is no space
and no time to rest
Can your name counteract
the loss of hope
dissipated by the friction of indifference
in this London City
Imagine my words
marking this space time
slingshot by the mass of yours
Truly, stone—
Jupiter’s mass will be nothing to yours.
You and I know where entropy leads
An infinite library of cold books stretched
to their last sentence
The second law of thermo-linguistics states that
nothing is ever written,
nothing is ever deleted
All is translated
Since we left, they have found new letters,
Not the living ones in CAGT,
The ones from the alphabet from before
when words and pages were one another
They dance—spin they say
It is hard to stay still when there is no space
and no time to rest
Can your name counteract
the loss of hope
dissipated by the friction of indifference
in this London City
Imagine my words
marking this space time
slingshot by the mass of yours
Truly, stone—
Jupiter’s mass will be nothing to yours.