Buildings arise, threatening by their stance
To overcome their foundations and surround
The sky with bricks and white cement.
Corrugated iron rooves, all but one leaks
Continually in the rain. Supporting masts
Have hoisted aloof their flags, but they,
In uncooperative vein, refuse to dance
In a non-existent wind. The ground
Is grassed over with a lawn of papers, bent
And battered beer cans, a week’s 
Supply consumed in a single afternoon: The pasts
Of a host of other (better?) days than today
Reflected by their unwilling users
Into the rubbish heap of their futures.

			       1974