Dear Muse whoever you are, please give this poet-writer a swift kick in the ass

hey what’s this frozen on the floor bit?
just get at it and stamp something already.
Rubber? Good enough, get rubbery

– that dirty squeaky friction –
lick where sweat is – maybe beads
are a crop across her caramel

acreage. Careful looking up
at the one whose tassels are
tawny – gaze is glossy chocolate

and fashioned to melt defenses
to milk – readiness perpetual
for a nightlong swinging swab

with or without the sodden
cotton panel. Suffocation
for this rubber. So be it.

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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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