Entropy

It is the way of
things that unfold or
spiral;

That is to say

God
in the black centers of galaxies,

his
names erupting
in comets;

And my understanding
of the yoke
of the world;

my wordless corpse

lengthwise in snow,
the chiseled symbol of me
scribing
name to years
pulled eyeless
over limestone
and sundog,

drawn up
from tide
or road
to the light
of the bewildering moon.