.Tik Talk: Global Warning

To Edward Campagnola

there will be no snow in this poem

music in the park san jose
music in the park san jose

i grew up on the california coast

sunshine, smog and optimism

writers write what we know, they say

coin terms and make clichés,

turn clichés into new expressions…

tree leaves crackle in the wind

as my hand creates directly from my brain

inscribing visions from

inner thoughts and images

making metaphors evocative…

there will be no snow nor any ice on earth

soon—a boon solely to the new

explorers and conquistadors

seeking the northwest passage

to riches yet untold,

unsold, unexploited

environment is evaporating

into thin air thickened with fumes and

smoke and transparent greenhouse vapors

invisible yet indivisible from breath

never leaving any evidence on our tongues

or noses, skin or eyes to remind us

(the oblivious)

that the sixth extinction is upon us (all—

no exceptions made)

the unstoppable tipping point

pointing right at us

a giant finger in the sky

a middle finger

imminent and inexorable

unyielding, hard as nails

in our coffins

a cancer stick

stuck in our collective throat and lungs

do we need more metaphors?

the writing on the wall is writ

clear across the hazy sky

Barry Barnett lives in Santa Rosa.


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