Traces in the Fog
Born into violence: the offspring of mixed aggressions, traces of sickly silver quickly infiltrate our atmosphere. Toxic clouds that sail the zephyrs, spurting their entrails
atmosphere
Warming Clouds
Between synthetic, parallel lines drawn across artificially constructed maps, the clouds begin to form. Climbing upwards like giant anvils of cotton candy, a trick of
Secreted Shiptracks
Drifting beside western coasts of uncovered continents, metallic leviathans stretch their sunken limbs. Hinged jaws spitting sulphurous seeds that linger beneath the ether; clouds condensing
The Cost of Shale
Leaky pipelines cannot excuse The vileness of your touch As it seeps malevolently From its ancient, grainy prison; Your eccentric composition Creating chemical fingerprints That
A Hidden Trace
Beneath the pristine peaks and snow-capped mounds, Lie records of our past and future selves. A precious commodity lying dormant, Safe from prying eyes
A Blemish in Our Atmosphere
Between the curves where space and sky entwine, The air is stripped by violent, solar flow; A savagery inherently benign, When matched with what arises
An Interstellar Climate
The final act of some forgotten star, Unleashes unseen light at breakneck speed; And once these cosmic rays have journeyed far, Into our atmosphere they
A Cold Wind Blows No More
Researchers have thrown us a new curve ball, That whilst cold snaps might now seem like the norm The surface heating variance will fall.
UAV or not to UAV
Gently humming in the autumnal breeze Gliding overhead like a wicked dream The black sheep of research, the UAV Not spitting out fire or