Sidney Wade Poems

Very odd,
this little cloud
in trousers
in the sandy
...

I'm torn,
my beloved
in the ice-
ribbed north,
...

we all disappeared,
walked straight out of our poems
and into heaven.
We left the old breakfast things,
...

this world
is full
of beautiful
surprises
...

the never-ending
meditation
...

here is the beautiful place
transmuted by weather
rubbed down to stubble and stump
...

I feel mottled
a gray cloud slides
over the domes
turned from the white
...

A very cool guy
in a paper smoulder he
speaks the true language of nerve
...

lake-water
rushes white
and foamy
through granite
...

We're searching
for the single
yellow-headed
blackbird
...