i call the troll my swamp gardener. 
he does it all by thought wave and smile. 
i look beyond the swamp at the piles 
of assfault and refuse of human constructs used 
to buttress the artificial shore, see huge concrete bergs 
tossed aside by tides, and think how much better a swamp 
abides and integrates than our encroachments 
and harsh, toxic controls. as the water rises 
i dream and pray one day the oil wars collapse 
for lack of fuel, of hateful greed, and murderous ill will, 
and we shall all be swamp gardeners, as before 
the invasion, 
and feel the sweet, pungent cool mud between our toes, 
and the humble pride and regeneration, 
the love spring, that integrates and abides.