More words:

I: Dead Leaves

Lo I was dragged beneath the Earth
By a cloud of smoke and chains
Tumbled a name from Her tongue

Yet I followed her beyond the trees
Trod light upon the eaves
For dead leaves make Yuletide wreathes

And prison designs panopticon tide
‘Neath Steradian shadow of the sun
Collapsed upon ye Pylon Field

Prison designs panopticon tide
Follow her out to a grave
Collapsed upon ye Pylon Field

For so long now deprived of light
With a heavy clattering of bells
Wrung the rain from His sky

II: October

Wheels of the bicycle
Buried in rust still
Carried the dust
Of an October wire
With wool and blood

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