We are the last that there are anywhere.
The changeless figures, the great heads sitting on
stones
Look out of place. We too, who put them there
Look out of place, ribbed in these cages of bones
Where the heart hangs and hangs like a yellow gourd
And the eyes, divest of covering, lean and sway;
Throat’s edge shines out bright as the edge of a sword.
We are the last. Everyone goes away.
They fall like leaves, the cities of the past
Endlessly into rock and the endless streams.
Our minds fall shut on each, fall at the last
With the great-lipped faces of our merciless dreams
In the red colored dust. It with its various reds
Like the first leap of anger fills our heads.
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