These firenadoes from the West 
whip me 'round to skin and bones, 
a never-before-known sight 
only detailed in dystopia. 
Encroaching on my doorstep, 
enrobed in Hesperides aflame, 
they want to take me away 
to Gehenna country in Oz. 
No illusory wizard can point me home. 
His balloon is halfway 'cross the Pacific, 
leaving ashes lying: desiccated 
desecrated corpses under 
sooty skeletons of leaves. 
Prone warm bodies strain 
in methane debris to breathe: 
Robert's premonition come to pass.