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Email as if in Dublin

Email as if in Dublin

I have scoured the computer box six days now,
My email, tipped and drained in Dublin,
And the broad I consider is from Dublin, too, I think.
I chomp a bitter pipe between my 56 teeth,
Irrelevant sometimes irreverent, tragic, boring, alone, inebriated, masturbated,
Then hung over by silly, fleeting passion.
Frankenstein suggested; she said yes;
And I now ask nervously like the dresser in the movie “The Dresser”
After many ingenious God days:
Why am I not as good looking as James Dean?
I see bourbon from Scotland on the shelf
And too would blow my gray brain out on three thin sticks of marijuana—
True. But today I am confined to a tepee with no stars or moons to gaze;
And sometimes I pray, as if holy,
Because little black birds negotiate air
Before the 20-story Hilton across the street from my rectangle, 24th-story mew.
So I shall drink bourbon and hooch some acid like Hunter S. Thompson tomorrow.
Stiff strawberries await me this evening in the freezer,
Where dull, but elaborate, infinity lurks furtive in cubes of ice;
And I think I shall check the U.S. Post Office for letters now,
For I am always being told that I owe $95
To a company I have never heard of.
Furthermore, I could never understand the plays of William Shakespeare.

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Writer, Artist (Photographer), Former Journalist (The Washington Post).

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  • Guendalyn
    Guendalynalmost 3 years ago


  • Tim Ruane
    Tim Ruanealmost 3 years ago

    Your so nice.
    Thanks, with humility

  • HamperRefuser
    HamperRefuseralmost 3 years ago

    Interesting write. I like this.

  • Thanks, Hamper.
    You write well.

    – Tim Ruane

  • sandra22
    sandra22almost 3 years ago

    See, I think it is the eclectic collection of thorts you gather into a story to present to ‘us’ that makes your poetry so darn interesting Tim
    I enjoyed this read

  • You, Sandra, are good for my fragile ego.

    – Tim Ruane

  • charliethetramp
    charliethetrampalmost 3 years ago

    the odd man out fear and loathing leaves las vagas moves to dublin
    a guiness on o`connel street then a lift to the liffey for my favourite tipple of irish wiskey
    love your poetry tim.its a journey within words

  • waddleudo
    waddleudoover 2 years ago

    I feel as though your poems are much like your photographs, purposely, artfully, a bit out of focus. Anyone can reproduce reality. A real artist begins from reality and creates true fantasy – makes the viewer squint or stretch, stand on tip toes to reach for your truth.
    Cordially, Ellen

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