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.


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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