2014 #192

should’ve shot some rocketry
that New Year’s Eve back in Bucharest
back when the world became Twelve.
But I believed I’d never have to wonder
how it feels to miss it so; hot wines
and moonshine burns while waiting for
the umbrellas to return like seasonal
swallows; and when pecked about learning
the linguistics too slowly I figured
I’d have a half a fat decade to grow
into it. What a dummy.
What a dummy, me oh my oh me.




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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