Sun blasted yeses across space and time
and the moon goes down in a mist of no
earth rolling moving warming ice caps
melting and the seas rise first a foot toe
a frozen continent calving crumbling
a piece at a rhythmic mythic time slow
so slow lights dim smoke cake rises
and they learn to go easy the strung horns
plucked and picked by the breeze afloat
in cosmic currents first detected in the 60s
of each receding century shoveled under
fallen garages leaning walls broken
foundations sinking into the ocean
nowhere now to park the rigs the stallions
of snow unleashed from barns of bane
from frozen fears offered up to the sun.
Chary
The Coming of the Toads 
response #1: Great poem .
response #2: Get help .
response # 3: Watch out for needles in haystacks in the barns of bane .
response # 4: In a dark mood , Joe ?
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Optative mood.
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Ah ! In a subset of the cohortative mood . Would that I were .
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Thanks Joe…A wake up call to those who hold dominion over the earth.
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Thx, Bill…”I’m melting, melting! Ohhhhh, what a world, what a world” (the Wicked Witch of the West). And it only took a bucket of water.
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