When the sun shouts and people abound
One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of
bronze
And the iron age; iron the unstable metal;
Steel made of iron, unstable as his mother; the tow-
ered-up cities
Will be stains of rust on mounds of plaster.
Roots will not pierce the heaps for a time, kind rains
will cure them,
Then nothing will remain of the iron age
And all these people but a thigh-bone or so, a poem
Stuck in the world's thought, splinters of glass
In the rubbish dumps, a concrete dam far off in the
mountain…
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Comments
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he's great
we go on vactation to places that remind us of past us, and he reminds us that our age as well must come to an end- he quite beautifully and poignantly describes our disintegration.
what comes after us?
what ruin?
what beauty?
what ruin.... -
i have no clue what jeffers is talking about....
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