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Sweat sweet with mid-day summer sun. Skin burns red to blister. It permits no resistance. Insistent on shining. Eyes squint for shadow. All to rare in this lonely atmosphere. Rarer breezes blow to tease relief, But all this provides for view beyond belief. The city erupts in the Sun's Rays. Reflecting infinite daily cloud-play off Glassy faced behemoths. Every ripple sparks diamond waves. And sometimes this place doesn't seem so bleak.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 10:10 AM UTC
"June" A section of a string of poems written on a handrail on a bridge.
Sweat sweet with mid-day summer sun. Skin burns red to blister. It permits no resistance. Insistent on shining. Eyes squint for shadow. All to rare in this lonely atmosphere. Rarer breezes blow to tease relief, But all this provides for view beyond belief. The city erupts in the Sun's Rays. Reflecting infinite daily cloud-play off Glassy faced behemoths. Every ripple sparks diamond waves. And sometimes this place doesn't seem so bleak.
In the Summer of 2012, I embarked on a mission to cover a bridge going over the Ohio Rive with poems. This is just one of those, selected from now more than 60.
esz-pe-bea
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 10:10 AM UTC
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