Tom Calm
smells a con
in all the tangled signals
twitching in the wind
twisting through his skin
and stranding him in the street
with a bleeping blinking phone.
In a city.
Not a tree
in sight.
But we all fall
like leaves
soon—
so let’s BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
in a great big room
alone with a glowing screen
sending messages:
I’m not feeling super okay today.
Call me when you get here tomorrow.
So does Tom Calm
hear a hum beyond
this nervous wind?
a magnetic murmur
so basic it buzzes us
into a party
more rumbling and deeper
than BOOM? (listen)
.
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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