Night City (from the Plane)

No foot could endure it, / shoes are too thin. / Broken glass, broken bottles, / heaps of them burn. // Over those fires / no one could walk: / those flaring acids / and variegated bloods. // The city burns tears. / A gathered lake / of aquamarine / begins to smoke. // The city burns guilt. / — For guilt disposal / the central heat / must be this intense. // Diaphanous lymph, / bright turgid blood, / spatter outward / in clots of gold // to where run, molten, / in the dark environs / green and luminous / silicate rivers. // A pool of bitumen / one tycoon / wept by himself, / a blackened moon. // Another cried / a skyscraper up. / Look! Incandescent, / its wires drip. // The conflagration / fights for air / in a dread vacuum. / The sky is dead. // (Still, there are creatures, / careful ones, overhead. / They set down their feet, they walk / green, red; green, red.)