We have space, in this city, to spread out.
There is no need to coil our houses
round each other, or bury clean-cut
lawns in concrete.

It is possible to use perspective,
create pinprick horizon at the end
of streets, rainbowed with graffitti.
There is room to be diverse:

take a pinch of glass, combine
with sandstone, add acid rain and
call yourself a city. Next, mix in tar-
macadam, road signs to everywhere
from Brent Cross to St. Pauls.

These new glass boxes show us a
view of plastic ants, scurrying round
their nine-to-five, inversions of the
nymphs and fauns, carved and dancing
far below. Their prime was two thousand
years ago in the mind of some Grecian
artisan.

The river creates a foreground for
silver nodules, slivered metal,
a cut-off for this overflow of
people and ideas, architects drawings
sprawling, coloured in.