Fuel Crisis

The slow hissing of softly soaring heat
Searing flames consuming fear of the cold
By the dancing coals and sky-skipping feet.

Metal engines thunder belching thick sheets
That cover the towns with the gleam of fool’s gold;
The slow hissing of softly soaring heat.

Simmering in the fat clouds gases meet
And kiss and spit: the molecules unfold
By the dancing coals and sky-skipping feet.

Oceans groan at the empty men who cheat
The senses, laughing at the blood foretold –
The slow hissing of softly soaring heat.

So who’s next to run? Yes, you too can beat
The burns by flying over men of old
By the dancing coals and sky-skipping feet.

Now, at the dripping poles, whiteness retreats
Leaving steamy chasms. Ego unrolled.
The slow hissing of softly soaring heat,
By the dancing coals and sky-skipping feet.