Icicles of underside cities
fissures of crawling script
to lift the frames of houses
search the light of weary swamps
engine pouring steam tongues
from a sunken hulk
the reed scum's briar skeleton.

Beaten down into my old love
beaming threads of sexual pleasure
throughout a bulging grid
and its balloon rooms.

The pores of walls polished
leaflets over snaking fronds
a battered cushion's repose
upon the leaden vent's
cooked microwave.