2014 #147

casino neon
words explode, erasing decency
fences and she pins

the blow on the nose as years
were her hen hovering trainers
on how to trample subtlety,

salivates for any chance
to report on blood, bowls better
than tablespoons and a river

easier superior
to feelings that feel streamy and it is
a certainty her dear drone

will rot multiple circuits
and maps melt not only from her work
but the work of all her colleagues;

this corner of this world is lovely;
too bad about the eager
reach for  the aromatic poison

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About Timmy the Scribbler

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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