Rust and Ruin

Reach back and graze the dust

To reckon the seasons as far as they gleam

Cities dissolve, but the echoes still trust

The curve of the earth and the wound of a dream

Angels howl

at the feast

They all circle close just to waken the beast

No hand of the poor,

no crown of the high

Ruin and rust, while the paper survives

Bending low over the blaze And the fall and the fall and

the fall

Skimming close to the shape of his dread And the fall and

the fall and the fall

The strings confess what the mouth never said A spark in the

dark, and the dark turning red

He drifts beneath the weight of his fear

With a skyline of verdicts that rattle and ring

The smoke draws a map,

and the end leans near Still louder and louder

the hollow bells sing

Angels howl at the feast They all gather near

at the edge of the beast No hand of the poor,

no crown of the high

Ruin and rust,

while the paper survives

Under the ash where the last sparks breathe The night folds down,

and the teeth still gleam