Petroleum nightmares sizzle
and burst on smoking sidewalks.
Hurricanes scream at concussed
cities. Snowflakes fall backward
up to fried skies. Whole forests
collapse into ash, and white zombies
run for Congress, opposing
knowledge and love.
It's been quite the summer
so far. To be or not to be
cooked by our dear atmosphere:
that's not the question, but it will
suffice. Mobs chase scientists
across deserts strewn with
condominium rubble. Coyotes
watch and laugh. Down the years,
they've smelled our madness.
We condition the air.
hans ostrom 2021
