What if

            the jungle and swampy woods
                        cleared and drained

                        drench the abuses

                                     puddles studded with striders      

                                                a shadow where the moon once was                

                                                            What if things
                                                                        unlivable?

    
                                                Please
                                                     stagnant water
                                                                         speaks
                                                            always
                                                                    susurrates under canopy

                                    tambourine rattles
                                                            like flat crack

                                                trouble ground
                                         despite an everything

                                                                        to beneath bayou
                                                                        to naming from cargo
                                                                        to chirp dying city
                                                                              to halloing the wasteland

                                                                         not better-than

                                                                                    not clean or

                                                                              marshes to be
                                                                                                ever

                                                                                         impure