It squats amidst the park; a solitary pool/ Around a silent fountain; long since parched and still,/

Beware that vampire money vulture./ Him and his corporate monoculture/

In creep, in crawl, incursion occurs,/ Its name the smog and it knows no doors,

So you're in the movies? Can I buy you a drink?

Reykjavik Art Museum 2019/ progression photos/ ice glaciers/ 1999, and now.

I saw the Moon; I saw her rise blood-red/ looming over soil, and rock and sea.

Tiny voices dismissed against the roar of machines/ Turbines, grinding, relentless extremes/

The sea curls back/ Like the lip of the woman next to me

Within the city high towers stood/ Amid such filth that they almost hid,

This evening the sky turned a sombre page/ The colour slate grey as the wind did rage