death of the net

walks with or without purpose or order
would be included in the running dream
which overarching theme is looseness
or laxity, and we who place high value
on looseness or laxity (in all things, be they

temporal, spiritual, ethereal)
have of late been given little in the way
of alternatives to frontal and sometimes
brutal representations of organs,
organisms, organizations,

driven with maniacal-level
missionary zeal,
in curtailing the ability for
whosoever feels the urge, to live
loosely or laxly, and are in fact

in favor of stamping out all
such appearances, intending to do
so as soon as they are certain their hands
have completely possessed all armories.
Walking may actually get marked as the greater
iniquity, since a person may undertake

a stroll with no fixed destination in mind
– and it is not too far-fetched to presume
that the mind in question may already exist
in an infectious or infected

condition, due to too many seasons where
cultivation of idleness
was allowed fullest liberties – the cells
in present ascent are seldom shy
in passing down the reminder that liberty
is not license. Libertines do mightily

err when assuming the door is open
for their lax-headed membership.
But libertine antipathy is
pretty much par across most all boards
and personally I flirted with flagrant

foolishness by ever believing an old
poet such as myself would ever discover
a neighborhood whose welcoming kitchens or
bedrooms could ever number more than two or three.

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About come to timmy

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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