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The average person knows between 20,000 and 30,000 words.
~ and for Senor CG~
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infinite then the multiplicity of combinations,
and yet we use so few,
and the comforting ones,
we repeat unconsciously
for they apparently applicable
to the boo/hoo/who in Who Me?


messing about in poetry,
an excuse to betray ourselves
to a greater audience with
hints and provenances,
secret’s subtle
could mean
trouble


I have revealed more than
I could believe ~
not the drabfactoids
but the insights


that flesh my self~sketches,
you could ask me anything,
my answer simple and
insane~same!


if you explicitly explain
there is no fun in that,
but the clues writ large,
answering questions you
didn’t know to ask


plenty to hide, some too
well disguised

but the hints are clear enough,
to make sure you’re
asking the correct ones

so,
sorry apology
Senor Carlo
the doorknob to my spotlight clearly
visible
in the portrait of my preposterous
multi~nefarious words

no great reveal
no screaming squeal
for you to decrypt

still requires an
inning of
excavation digging,
for it’s in the over thousands of
psalms and prayers
and a few layabout
poems
who/hoo,
too*
(wink)
12/7/24
some sounds and guttural expressions,
unique property of individual & groups,
no, won’t explicate this  
too much further
but…

anyhoo, in the realm of naked laughter ,
undisguised, unhooded,
a modest-ly hand-covered giggle,
primarly but not exclusively,
the propety of the feminine wile,
so much so, a ‘girlish giggle’ needs no
hyphenation, or hydration,
just  imagining grinning
eyes and lips, crinkling
and the ability to easy while
through one’s
nose breathing

well understood it is the
la feminine,
this witty twitty
in the provence, of women,
particularly the younger at heart
who titter with the glee
of reckless uninhibited unlimited
gig-gig-gigl-ling-ling
(N.B. young st heart is an ageless concept)

the Frenchies in their
Frenchified (1)
(alt.; frenchfried) ways
call a giggle, a puff of laughter, (2)
which sounds so modestly ladylike,
but in the US of A, a girl giggle,
a really good GG,
needs not be so demure,
and can possibly extend into a raucous cackling infectious,
yet discreet
uncontrollable belly slapping laugh,
given the kerrect circumstances

love me them GG’s
(2)

giggle: pouffer de rire

(1) see “Billy Budd,” Benjamin Britten composed the opera Billy Budd, and E.M. Forster and Eric Crozier wrote the libretto:
kindness is never free!

it has to be learned to be earned,
it is not a natural choice but comes
to live in our genes after observing
it beneficial impacts, it munificence,
a two lane highway, divided by a
dotted line,
so that it can go across  fluidly,
a streaming with no unilateral
direction, reversing course as needed

nope, not free, it comes with callused
hands lifting up a fallen one, even better,
taking unasked another’s elbow for safe
guidance, kindness prevents, making its
value greater than pears and rubies, yes,
it is infectious…

because you cannot receive it,
or returned,
until you’ve taught its
beauteous character,
seeing is believing,
tasting is knowing,
it’s shocking power is astounding,
a special
sounding that requires
not words, but words
and actions, a total package,
for it completes
the human far beyond
mere existence…
Oct 2023
begin this life in a wordy
but wordly habit, daily,
father-gifted, though different,
in form and language selected,
‘tis the one and ‘tis the same

tally, a counting combination
of all that has been done, for both
better & worse, blessing/curse,
the key: revamp review reset
this day upcoming and welcome
all the major tasks, minor miracles,
that one can effect,  select, elect!
by choice, a freedom so great it
tenderly rips joy thoroughly into
and from my cells, and my body
is enlightened, uplifted in this,
now a preposition, a conjugation, a

state of composition,

for the tasks given, the granted,
those that must be taken, those most
difficult, when knowing their choice,
entails pain, untempered, and
requires establishing a two edged
position of composure…

this is a hard and an easy
new proposition I create,
hard for I write on a tiny
phone screen, in letters so
small. it keeps me humbled,
a reminder of having
lived a span well
beyond belief,
for one took\gave body a
careless comfort,
giving little
of the differring
kind of nutrition in order
to live life, well and purposed

hard too, for my body has wept,
a steady stream of silent tears.
unceasing as I scribe,
making vision difficult, the
insight salty but clear and the
words contained within them,
flood for easy laying-down

for this AM workout of counting,
lists up and down, so many items,
of differring nature, even now
noticing for the very fitting first time,
the subtle hint within
differring,
for it possesses a doubling
of the enormity, the division
of what has been already
accumulated and what yet,
needs accomplishing, the tally
needy for resolving looking past,
for seeing with yet more tears
fast-as-you-can-forward

the tally never ends, paused only
for a quick question/happy deletion
of, and a resolute immediate, moving on:

Where do I stand,
what is my position?


keep on keeping on,
tallying has no finale,
no sunning/summing up,
for another day
will yet follow,
for you, and
your own
tallying must
goes on, on
and
not even,
nor even,
odd,
when mine,
mine no long,
and the
and yets,
no longer
commence
646am dec 18 2024
There’s no labor
When we’re in the zone
Every line is on its own
Every stanza polished and pure
What was it that drew us here

Some shadow driven desire
A dopamine rush if you please
Like a yogi in the moment
Like a dogs tail wagging free

From the masses we have risen
The quickening is quite satisfying
All the addictions we could have
And it’s poetry that we rely on.
Traveler 🧳 Tim
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