Head in the Clouds is where Senior Editor S. shares thoughts, musings, and sometimes philosophy. It is not necessarily to be taken too seriously.


If only there were more women

afront to a holding block

though so far away

although the painter’s smock

o how he falls for himself

and the hole consuming his heart

If only the birds could stay chirping

a loose translation would not comfort

no man, no truth, no sense

deep graves will go to his family

I’ll pay attention to the cost

no man, no truth, no senses

All the rights have come to fruition

all my holes make sense

I see now this painted circle means love

and everyone knows my name

all he hopes for is me

I write him in my cabin alone

I have such good news

-Senior Editor S.

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