2014 #137:1

start with a whimper and rise to a squall
when the sun gives glow to the clouded
carpet in the seam that seems slim
because distance so deems optical
relations come to this genus
of flower for ornament for the seat
where overviews go unceasingly on,
meaning a vertical parting of
the pleasure drapery through which language

universal groans once the whimpers
have grown and they do fast ascend and cry
for control else debris flying outside
sniff out party fumes and feel invited
and splinter the door and scratch up the floors
of wood so recently refinished;
it then becomes either hand or kerchief
unless lessons are digested
about expressing through flowing detours

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About come to timmy

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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