sentimental for Romania

Come To Timmy

of all the sounds and sounds of sights,
and of all the chuckles and wintertime
mishaps, what of Bucharest remains in
the starkest of standings? What else
but the outer space bleep-bleep-bleep

uttered by a prior era giant
born of concrete with echoing innards;
maybe something simple as a signal
barked at the start line as announcement
of another adventure, the hour

mattering naught; as something simple
as a trip to fetch eggs or bread or wine
meant reinvention of the alphabet –
though reinvention is not the best word.
I always blossomed best in foreign lands.

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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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