Al Gore has departed from fictional films … er … “documentaries” to write some truly atrocious poetry. A COMMENTARY reader who prefers to go nameless has an alternative offering:

I do not want the Earth to warm
I do not want to do it harm
I do not want the Earth to heat
I fear the flames will hurt my feet
The time has come for me to rhyme
To save the Earth, I’m just in time

To save the planet from this flame
Aloft I, in my private plane
Hysterically my warnings shriek
Sounding not unlike some goofy freak
Fake data backs my warming shtick
The temp curve is a hockey stick

I can help relieve your guilt
Because you see, my fortune’s built
On carbon offsets that I sell
Before the world turns to hell
You’d best send money, for a tree
That I will plant in Zimbabwe

Dr. Seuss, take that!

(If you think that you, too, are a budding Wallace Stevens of eco-disaster, I’m sure Mr. Gore would love to hear from you. Perhaps there’s an anthology in the works!)