Stand on the roofs
of the blue clouds.
Watch the silver sun
melt away.
Up up up
above invisible Earth,
drift on a wave
of singing wind.
Then descend
from the heavens,
like a breath
from a balloon.
Fall in the street
on the jagged concrete,
telephone wires
overhead.
Drunk with big
dazzling flashes,
you blend among
faces and noise.
And flick an eye
at the high lonesome sky,
with its soft
blushes of rose.
.
Writings by Thomas Radwick. Mostly poetry and lyrics. t_radwick@yahoo.com
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Crack in the Ceiling
Poetry by Thomas Radwick
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