A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Sunday, January 31, 2010


I dug my grave
there was nobody in there

I waited around for awhile,
then I left.

I can always come back again later
and check

but just to be safe, I left some flowers

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

show you progress

I'm a gentleman scientist
readying the world step-by-step
for my incredible discoveries, doing all
my level best to insure that panic
does not ensue

when I break through:
I will say: "Good evening.
How do you do?"

And after a courteous pause,
I'll correct the answerers,

and I will tell them all how

they will all


except evidence

don't believe in anything
except for evidence
Evidence doesn't prove anything
but it used to.

you sent the world away
but the world wants to stay
keep you cradled up inside it,
coming up with the same sane answers
that everyone does. The world wants you
to do the same. You stopped

but the world went on. Without you,
your life stopped as well, but not
in the same place.

You can't see it

Evidence doesn't prove anything
but it can be used to. It can be used
to prove whatever it wants to, and if
you are nice to it, go easy on it,
you can turn it in all different directions
and watch it sparkle

watch it sparkle so, that
you won't believe

in anything but that gleam
and nor should you: soon the
things you wanted most to see
in yourself, in the world around,
in the ones you want most to believe,

everywhere you used to see all you wanted to
see, soon

you'll note the distinct lack
of evidence
backing you up
backing you up, on
your heels, there's a wall
somewhere behind you but you haven't struck
it. You believe there's a wall, but your eyes are
staring forward, at everything you're backing away

You'll become, you'll become, you'll become, you'll
become what the evidence most strongly suggests.
You can guess, excellently well but why waste your time
on your old talents now? When you've pared it all down
to the basics. Here's how: believe in nothing
except evidence. Evidence doesn't prove a thing,
but it can be used to.

mountain house

we went to your big mountain house
spread out and empty inside, it was only
the roof and the sides were pushed out
that made it big, too big
to hold so tiny a life
which was how you preferred
to live in it: spare,
but with me there, I was
out of place
which was fine by me.
- that was only for the moment,
I was only there to help
only there to help lend a shoulder,
or two, my arms and back -
you said
needed lifting

I was only there to help you
not fit in

Monday, January 25, 2010

"all okey-doke!"

no thing going on,
you've done no wrong
at least, by me!

nor made me
sad, uncomfortable, or
irritated in my soul

with anything you've said,
implied, or left unsaid, or

you're pretty much
the only one I know
who's clear and free.


she shoulders heavy burdens,
words and murmurs, implications,
weighted actions, freighted glances,
she's our servant, our salvation
thankless wonder, struggles under
evermore she's taking on

upon her shoulders, worlds
are settled - with yet more
worlds waiting patient
to climb on.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

at the end,

I see us forever,
arm in arm, life in life
and there are consequences implied.
I don't want us to die.

Not early, not an accident. Though
at least we'd go together, I don't want
to end in pain, fear, screaming

and I don't want to be cut short

Of course, I don't want
to end at all
I want long years to savor this
I will not be able to believe what we have found,
not until I've been able to rub my face in it,
in its sweet fragrance and warm sleek press
and damp caress, and cold morning gooseflesh,
and warm growing-into, and learning
each the other, right through, and
through again, for ages and ages,
a long, long time
- and then only then,
will I believe my luck.

All of which means:
natural causes, most likely.
quite harsh, still

"Forever" is a hollow joke,
in lives like these, a world
made to be temporary, made
to end, and
to be over

I'm just going to blurt it out:

at the end,


I don't want to go first.

I don't want to think of the branching ways
you could go on from there,
I can't bear
to think of you drawn,
despairing, your life
gone forth from the world,
me cold in the ground, or some dull,
well-earned urn.
With a small plaque on it, that says
something sarcastic - I made you promise
to put on there

you honored,
though you knew I was only kidding
one last misguided attempt to lighten the pall
as I lay with your hand squeezing my withered hand,
with your hand squeezing the last of my blood
instead of my heart

and then you, so full of life, let it drop
and follow soon after,
too soon.

our threads are intertwined, but
I don't want my death to cut yours short,
to be the blade that cuts yours

But almost worse than that picture - me
so selfish, me
so jealous - to picture you waiting
the requisite year, then - your heart lighter,
you pick up and move on...

I don't want that either! What
a hard, cruel, I know - a selfish, selfish
man. And I know my ghost would only want
to follow your every step, just to feel the pain
of not sharing in

to be by your side in pain -
a pain to be preferred to heaven

Darling, please, while we're young
let's agree - you go first

for I know I won't last,
with you gone

I will follow before you can even think
to miss me

less from you

what I need
is not
what you need to give me,
I can do with less
I'd rather have less
from you
than any amount
from another

less from you
or whatever you can give
balanced by whatever you can't

whatever you can
is fine by me
give freely, give free,
less from you
is fine by me

to eat my words

I'm always prepared to eat my words
- that's one of my favorite dishes.
If I'm wrong, pass the fork!
they're so tender and choice, well -
what could be more delicious?

Saturday, January 23, 2010


does calculation
mean it less? you
want so much, to say
it right - the best
you can. It means
too much

some times the words just
tumble, rush, and fall
assembled perfectly
you catch your breath, and
think "wowee! Just what I meant,"

but other times, it's hard and takes
up all your mind in effort, sweat
and bad mistakes just barely missed
by effort you put into it - by artifice,
and measured weight, and tone, with care,
you calculate

Friday, January 22, 2010

perils of eating out

I went out to get vietnamese and slipped
ended up at the cambodian place
well my instruments must have been misaligned
they had to capture me to save face

it caused an international incident
the State Department claimed they didn't know
but that didn't stop them from asking,
"hey man - bring us back some amok, to go"

a full retraction

I was
when you pulled the plug
then you cut me down
from where you had me strung up
and unstrangled my neck, where
the reddened rope burned

You pulled the bullets out by their holes,
then you turned me over
and over, you looked for all signs
- for poison, you pumped antidote,
then opened my mind,
turning squishy little dials, flipping switches
I'm perfectly alive, you say

something's still gone

big bites

I take
great big bites of food
then I chew, then
I chew, then
I chew

Thursday, January 21, 2010




and question then:
acceleration, cross
wind current, friction
spend itself against
your skin rubbed raw
by air


to one straight line
you were born for:
to die

but first,

hit this one high

certain words

certain words
that I first heard
from you, it's like
you invented them

like "earbuds"
god, I love that word!
it's cute as all.
I picture a duck!

somehow, with ears
he wears those things
to hear his tunes
throughout his day

how do they sound?
what do ducks like?
I think: like you
duck tunes sound

Wednesday, January 20, 2010


you, meet me
and me, you
and I
have to say

"well how
do you do?

what say you
my love

you are mine
I am yours
oh, my love

we forgot that somehow
all the chores
and appointments
we made
of our love
left undone
fallen through
'til we sat
there with nothing
to do

and few words
to be strung

on the line
we hang loose
between us
to communicate through.

Well, you
meet me

and I'll
meet you

and we'll see
who we are,

before we're



her legs have too much design
and her knees are too far from her hips
but the moment the strap slips down,
on her arm
all is forgiven, her lips, oh her lips
sing a benediction

and I am the blessed
and I'm the beloved, dear brethren

and I am the choir,
she'll preach
call amen!

in response

sing the hymn

hallelujah again

in a congregation of two,
we begin
and she is the celebrant

all rise

and join in

no place like

this is where my life used to be
I drove these roads
straight like a shot
every time, found my way
to where you used
to wait

blinded by street signs
I used to know
I followed your old way home,
'til I couldn't find mine

because there's no safe
right place
at the end,
and that's fine

she doesn't live here
any more, and
what are you looking for?

I've never looked for anything. But

I will.


- slow,
not a race.

I want to be home.
I've never been home,
it sounds like a wonderful place

rights reserved, vs. rights deserved

my copyright prohibits derivative works
explicitly but that makes me a hypocrite, see?
Each and all my works are derivative. Originality
is a cross I gave the other guy to bear


I didn't stop caring,
I just stopped crying
my eyes had no more to give
my hand kerchief
got tired of drying
my eyes dried, un-
I honked my last
big honking blast
from my sore, red nose
and I threw it in the trash

The hanky, not my nose!

it was all stained and smeared
from the tears you made me cry
and big snot honks!

I'm a delicate guy.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

what used to be water

Christ is coming
around again, not
Sunday this time,
or Saturday. It's
Tuesday. Christ
is waiting,
before the door.
Right on time,
like a thief
in line for the next

He has not knocked.
He awaits at the door.
Who then shall answer?

it's my fucking house, so
I guess that's me. Hello?

"Peace be with you. Do
you have some time today
to speak together with
me about God?" Sure thing!

Come in, sir.

Sit down.

"No need
for the sir," he smiled.
"I'd like to tell you
a little about my ministry.
It won't
take long"

- just cut it right there,
please. Miracles! Buddy,
cut to the miracles

, says I.

He sighs.

Soon enough I'm regaled by
wonders, and rolling on the
floor from the parables.
He's turning fish into stones,
juggling loaves of milkhoney bread
telling stories like the pharisee
and the samaritan
walked into a bar
and I'm all stocked up
on gallon jug jars
of what used to be water

I love that guy!

He can come around anytime

Saturday, January 16, 2010

an answer

you see, I pray a lot
I mean no, I don't pray a lot
I don't know if I pray or not
it's more thought,
on the infinite topic,
a talk

yes of course - a bit one-sided, I know
have I seen, heard - a vision? a voice?
thank God no! I'd be pleased not to be
blessed quite so much as that
I like my miracles flat

but every long once in a while
that talk
hits a snag that I can't see
to work free myself
- it resolves itself into a plea:
to a prayer.

and last night I asked you
to help.

you were there

Friday, January 15, 2010

poems like the previous

poems like the previous one are why
I don't like to try to explain, or pry

pickup or delivery

someone is on their way
will the change be right
will the right change be there?
for the right tip, and tax
have I checked for that?
an eternal suspense
I have never ordered
I never placed the call
I never told anyone what I want, but
I cannot shake the feeling: somewhere,
there is a pizza coming
there is always a pizza coming
the feeling is always in the air
as the front porch light stays lit, waiting
for it,
and I get up and pace
and I check the face in the mirror
and I try to remember
the last time
I ever even placed
an order for pizza delivery.
been years, surely
it can't have been me who called
who is coming to see me
and what is going to be on it?
the pizza has been coming for
as long as I can think back
- and I'm starting to think,
it will never arrive
never land
never reenter
the timestream, the world
of reality, of "ding-dong!"
of "just a minute!"
of "here you are -"
"- there you go,"
This is one pizza that will never show.
But when it does,
it will be so damn piping
and hot
I will not
be able to believe.

I hear tires outside

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

out the door

the room has no air and I
walk, heatless,
through it
expecting every eye
upon me as I
hit the door, pulling,
swinging through
- fulcrum, lever and me
smooth in one motion. I'm
a perfect machine
for getting the hell out

but as I breathe again,
- treading on tree shadows,
cutting through the gap in the hedge
shooing spiderwebs - the eyes
still seethe
upon my ever-retreating

Sunday, January 10, 2010

to say it

I wanted to say it
unless you didn't

in which case,
I wanted to say it

fine then

It's either fine how it was,
or it's better now
and I don't care which
just as long as it fits
you can write whatever end
of the story you want,
or technically I guess,
set the sequel up

if you finally think you made a mistake

here's a last chance to make it right

it's either over like it was,
or else we move on
I refuse to let it drag
on longer like this
in my heart, I mean
- you have no idea
there was anything but over
between us at all

you knew what you had to do,
and you went ahead knowing the cost

but if you finally think you made a mistake

here's a last chance to make it right

and if you still think what you did was right, then

here's another chance to cut the loss

but if you finally think you made a mistake

here's a last chance to make it right

Friday, January 08, 2010

I have a mole on the inside

I have a mole on the inside
that doesn't tell me a thing
and I can't reach it to squeeze
for information or gently scratch
as a reward stimulus, it's too far
beneath the skin

it's on the inside
and it doesn't tell me a thing

Thursday, January 07, 2010

Cute As Boots!

you're as cute as a new pair of boots
that you bought half-a-size too small
just to have them at all
snagged the very last pair
will you wear them around?
will you wear them at all?
they pinch don't they, oh
will they get comfortable
after you break them in?
they're so cute with your hair!
and your outfits and jeans
after you break them in,
- do you think you will, though?
after you break them in,
bet they won't mean a thing


youth is wasted on the young,
who can't appreciate the fun
- but wait, that's dumb! Of course they can!
just what did you mean there, old man?

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

combat in the age of dream chivalry

girt in my iron pajamas
I ride fro on my steed of linen
to battle! in a wide plain of dream violence,
and my broadsword going all: whsssht! whsssht! CLANG
through the air and upon the shields and helmed visages
that surround me pretty thick.
The brute force of my sword-arm tells
to the consternation and woe of my sworn foes
fuck them

this is my dream

whatever they did to deserve to be in it
is not my problem

whsssht! whsssht!


a fleeting season

my mouth tastes of cigarettes,
and so should yours after all
but it doesn't. It tastes
like a color, like a warm
sound, like a feeling,
like water, clear

here for a season,
- less than that -
then drought

it feels like life
should be one long season of rains, by now
but up in the clouds, our rain dance has fallen
on agnostic ears, and we have to husband
what we've collected in buckets, in
troughs and tin cans, in
our hearts,

against this doubt
to get us through

I know
we shouldn't be smoking, but then
neither should anyone else

there's plenty of other things, as well
that nobody else should do

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

my ear just popped

my ear just popped
I guess I'm officially
down to earth,
not quite sea level
but grounded,
at least

For a while there
I was too high to do anything
but chew gum, and look down
in wonder
at how the lights
of cities and towns,
seen through the thin, doppled
layer of clouds
threw an angry orange glare
upwards, in my direction
making everything look like
smog and fire, and future dystopias

In places, the whole horizon was lit
by that evil glow

I just shut up, and
kept going

up to there

thigh high boots -
for a perfect excuse,
try thigh-high snow!
and away we go

slow start

bang! the starting gun
went off
I jumped up, startled
caught me flat
oh yes, I guess I'm s'posed
to run
too beautiful a day
for that!

Friday, January 01, 2010

new year's eve is over

one last grain
one tick, one beat
the countdown slid
to zero, we

turned and missed
our chance
for our last kiss
last year, our first
for this

this year I won't commit
to change or quit
or do a thing except
just making up that difference
and kissing you each
chance I get
upon your lips

I am resolved
so I will shave
my prickly chin

to keep your skin
unscuffed, unscratched

with kisses cool
inflamed within