okay I give

Distance instigates a very wry squint
which in turn must vex the sidekick in speech
but listen, there is something odd about
the way those horizon fingers rub shades
like charcoal on the sky, and see the sun
is clearly concerned; don’t know about you
but his vibrations are resonating
with my vibrations, which vibrations are
– or I might say my vibrations have slid –
crystal clear to us the future darkens

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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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