Every Broken Thing

The Poetry Of Lance McKnight

                        This one stands firm to current, watered
                        down by some john straight from the streets,
                        destined to hang all petered out, bones
                        unbroken as if by some distant proclamation.
                        Spewing out mathematical algorithms

                        no priest can savor or sustain. Even his physics
                        are well defined, rooted as they are in wood,
                        dust and splinter. A carbon-based entropy
                        even scientists can ponder.