2014 #154

Our sole course from here is elsewhere
and I dare not entertain the crowd
of buzzards freely cavorting

as though the dreary heaven
they doubtless peer from is a meadow
we mortals must refrain from dreaming of,

meaning the tempting symbolism
shall be sent to try its luck elsewhere.
The loss of here of papery crispness

is an inconsequential
matter. In humidity,
after all, come what will be

sensually limber
pleasingly easy for touching,
especially the perishable


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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