in circles for the eye
left and drop for
canyon walls plunge below lake surface
clouds barely cover overhead
watch the white of the everything above
what rocks could fall from heaven
to invert the sky?
Tom Pescatore can sometimes be seen wandering along the Walt Whitman bridge or down the sidewalks of Philadelphia’s old Skid Row. He might have left a poem or two behind to mark his trail. He maintains a poetry blog: amagicalmistake.blogspot.com.