Planted by Columbia Slough — nee swamp—
near brackish ponds and bronze tangled weeds,
the rippled-tin sheds, the squat concrete barns and mills
collect their own bracken: castoff goods adrift and sinking.
Corrugated metal walls, moss-pocked concrete
And slurry heaps of black tar vie with brambles
for the parking lots, and rusting motors accrete
iron-eating barnacles of fern
and lichen, surrealistic sculptures, wrought
of nature’s rape. The entropy of decay
has taken hold of plant and machine both
and dying slow together, they create
a metamorphic soup — evolution’s flotsam
in a weed and concrete sea.