FOR PROFESSOR COX

FOR PROFESSOR COX

anticipating the heat
death of the Universe
I employed an android
to pulverize
my poetry, digitally destroy

shortly before
my own death
the two of
us (android and
I) shook our
fist at the cosmos,
cruel, implacable,
following its cast
iron laws
worst of all
that fucking third one
of thermodynamics

even as this poem
our planet, the entire
human population,
     the great intellectuals of
cosmology, exobiology and
theoretical physics

went quantum field
superposition
bat-
   shit crazy

structure, order, principle,
every virtue
and verity hopelessly
collapsing
     as entropy straddled us
scanned us with its one bad
rotten eye like a plague-infected
Cyclops,

and we on our journey
stuck between Scylla and
Charybdis
never getting home
before the great
      energy equalization
the big bang gods
that do
   sport with us

damned if they even will give us
time for a last drink, barbecue,
spiritual
     supper or
braaivleis

      not to even to begin to think of
   final masterpiece of music,
painting, sculpture or
literature

or physicist coming up
with something inspiring,
redemptive

succour for our ultimately going
to die species out
of hallowed left field