( From Global Warming Defined ) I am taken by the earth’s lamp swimming overhead, a Great White circling for prey, waiting for blood to gush forth like a tsunami that it may devour the cheerless rubble and reign as king over the children. I am taken by the many tree’s standing at attention like a massive territorial army moving with the wind and tide and aiming all of the branches downward, narrowing their eyes to imagine death. I am taken by the seemingly motionless mountain and clear-cut icy peaks mourning their frozen scratch, tumbling down, screeching of a looming failure, an amateur skier kissing the ashen frost. I am taken by nightfall’s lantern dangling overhead judging our darkness with a peaceful gaze, with a golden sphere of certainty carrying man to howl at his expression slouched over the burnt and oily earth. © 2011 by mark prime
(The Weaver's Song)