Crisps in Terms of Sog

Hot oil's outcome
Defrosted and dry
Desert sparks an ocean fire

To manage the feeling of skin on sand
It's over the top, across the edge,
A cut that I'll release: the iron hounds

Bray at the star claps
Sock traps, totally devoid
Moisture spells a process

Breath becomes snare
To catch the figurative crow
At the edge of a parking lot

Eyeing the chicken leg
Whose life, friar,
Ended in crisp and wet ash