DRAINING THE SWAMP

I think of draining the swamp
so as to reveal The Swamp Thing; 
Gatherum stripped away for good or
would it be a She-Thing of the Mississippi? 

Diversity twitches like a nerve on a 
beachless shore. I am poised for a 
glancing blow. Gamma-rays under arrest 
through my reproductive organs.

Booby-traps chomping us up like 
bad teeth brittled. I think of building 
a wall as tough as beavers, as beetles, 
as spangles out of blooming fluctuform 

windspeed dripping airplanes across 
the phosphorescent Thought, Why not, 
I speculated a width of the way. Inspected 
gadgets gone in their former spaces, but

We want something more. We always 
want something more (with mathematical 
forked-tails to be hero of all). I want to be 
arrowing the earth; a life-force of blank 

bullet holes bursting through a body 
of feathers. I crawl out of the swamp 
like some Cenozoic creature of heaven
in the form of a rough Pacific surge 

reclaiming myself like a serpent
in the presence of eagles.