Seeing through the ground, the white sun
melts down in the smog.
The light drips works its way down
to my underground eyes that are there under the city,
and they see the city from beneath.
Streets, blocks of buildings like aerial photos
of a wartime city, though reversed--
a mole photograph.
Speechless rectangles in gloomy colors.
Things are decided there.
No one can tell the bones of the dead from those of the living.
The sunshine increases floods into cockpits and into peapods.