another poeticized exercise-extract-excerpt from a novella I’m working on reworking


Mixed feelings living
in Forrest’s huge complex
of existent psyche hives – and these
were quite huge hives – had learned to sniff
for when chance might send moseying breezes
that by happenstance brought change
and special devices were installed
in an era streaked with mostly mist

throughout the sectors of the mixed
feeling community – every hive –
and these were quite huge hives – had a device
matrix – concerned specifically
with inner feelings; special devices
trained to trigger sirens
whenever a reason to come
to Semen Springs visited

Forrest their host and when sniffing
the entry of Forrest – the host
of the hidden mixed feelings – into
Semen Springs – especially when
entering the hazy limits
that vaguely said where Semen
Springs City really began
– and the sirens ringing, hordes

of these mixed feelings would pour
from every hive – and these were
quite huge hives – and by then Forrest’s
psyche housed quite possibly hundreds
of hives – so they needed to heed
no singular command but all they all
did was as one cloud pounce and play
tones of cacophonous contrasts

designed to specifically dizzy
to a debilitating degree
a weaker-boned man than Forrest,
for Forrest was a man of calm
and cool strength who seldom waffled
or wavered under pressures. That is why
he was and yet was not happy
about having to travel to Semen

Springs, especially if he’d have to enter
the hazy limits that vaguely said
where Semen Springs City really began
because these mixed feelings composed
the few things in all the universe
able to remind him he might not be
the man of perfect composure
so many blithely believed. Now Forrest

did not often have a reason
to be in Semen Springs or
to enter the hazy limits
that vaguely said where Semen Springs City
began and where its influence gradually
quit its influential trickling.
Few in the worlds beyond Semen Springs
approved of Semen Springs in the first place,

especially after learning it even existed,
came into deeper understanding
what Semen Springs was all about
or the tone of the soul or heart
of Semen Springs; few were actually
encouraged to go to Semen Springs
or to express appreciation
for Semen Springs. But once in a great

while an especially willful fugitive
would find her way across the river
and thus find Semen Springs and it was
Forrest’s duty to find and retrieve
especially willful Estate
fugitives. But sometimes Madam
Tigertail got in a mood to try
a public relations campaign

because she supposed if she could be
sneaky she could slowly corrupt
from within Semen Springs what Semen
Springs meant and did not mean; dispatch
her most cordial types to go boldly
into Semen Springs and be really
friendly to the natives and the natives
could believe maybe they shouldn‘t believe

all or only the dark words
too many – including the Semen Springs
and Streams Gazette editorial team –
were quite quick in pronouncing
only because they heard others
pronounce them or read columnists
pronouncing them like they’d read
in Semen Springs and Streams Gazette

courtesy of the Semen Springs and Streams
Gazette editorial team;
and Forrest’s feeling along these lines
affected him in an extra special
homey and dramatic way in these
hours when the citizens
of Semen Springs City
were beginning their new day

and there was no way to not notice
the sun of Semen Springs was never
without a ready shining smile
and this too would be too much for Forrest
to handle if he didn‘t raise the steel
veils to his sentimental
compartments and if he was not almost  
as much a piece of property

as property in the merchandise
light of meaning. From another angle,
Forrest was not humble about
the basic confidence that powered
his calm voice but he was humble
about saying he was no great hunter
– because Forrest was an excellent
stalker and hunter and he loved

that he had this job and he was pretty sure
he’d find it easier to attempt
an escape if he was not of the value
he was to the estate for reasons
such as he was engaged in now,
and he sometimes wished more who entered
life in custody of Madam
Tigertail’s Estate would try escaping

or succeed in escaping. Let them all
be fugitives. Let them all dunk
their entireties into the unhurried
and unworried soul of Semen Springs.
The latest escape was practically
a carbon copy of the first – in the sense
that the call interrupted his wind-down
ritual of cocktail and jazz.


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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