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