2014 #187

about distance I am the grossest,
feeblest, least reliable judge
and if distance comes apart once inside
space or space is the distant sister
who causes all monuments – each stone

composing or comprising
each monument – to lose every speck
of stoic relic status
when her cleansed essence possesses
with her leather leash the atmosphere’s

naked eyelet as does the monarch’s
silent acrobat show; well all this
we need not turn into the captive
penny in the pocket, a poor
powerless penny

that knows only rubbing, being rubbed by
the most worrisome
thumb in the galaxy
and being a repeatedly spent
penny is this penny’s
fading memory; what I do know

is when a fire thunders in the dome,
the coals the shovel spoons, fuels
that saucy
saunter, and like magic
the milky way
defenseless pumpkin pie


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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