2014 #313

Santa dropped this off while I smoked
on the porch on this
Christmas day that isn’t far
from feeling like a cool lunchtime

in May and while flirty precursors
are the ever-zealous tugboats
they can’t help being, they’ve for this
proverbial motive been lured far

away and anchors hold them
at bay, and the thing Santa dropped off
while I smoked on the porch,
goes something like:

the surest way to disease
the imagination is to nourish
concern about whether or not
one is doing the right thing.

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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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