2014 #185

movie poodle squeaking sour cream sighs
like a sick siren, swore the scene
of her flick featured spit-shined skin
since it’s French and she’s famous,
so yeah, figured the earthquake’s
fissures verged on envelopment
so she cried like she cried like one final
frantic struggle against the soulless,
hard-nosed noose, but turned out she
was just drowning. As I suspected.

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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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