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?

Monday, February 28, 2011

I like to do things like

I like to do things like,
recommend the Beatles
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
to people.

"It's good! It's pretty good."

Meanwhile, total hypocrite

I never even heard the thing.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

tired is like being drunk

when the world is tired, and you reel
to see the lights, you feel the wind move by
and find the sounds where they live, and all the surfaces
are where you lie.

Sunday, February 20, 2011


I want to bear you on a palanquin
through ancient market squares, where green
and azure tapestries hang walls
between stout bamboo booths and stalls,
whose tables groan with merchandise
with opulence, with gems and spice
and you'll be dressed in bolts of silk
I tied myself, after your bath
a ritual of honeyed milk
you'll soak your skin
I dry you off, I'll polish, buff -
that honeyed milk
is sticky stuff

Form Ranks

Form ranks
and file out
into the hall and congregate
amongst yourselves,
with only those
upon whose trust
you can securely count

and whisper looks
and listen eyes
slight truth can add a lovely sheen
to color all the mutual
and ugly lies
that pass

- just we -

whom we can trust! Not those
we smile and praise to their wry face.
The awful truth on them is known
(we made it right here, in this place)
it's true our truth could not stand light
but it fits perfect, small and mean
in this dark room
and dark is cool!
come on
hang out!

You're on the team

the money we wasted

the money we wasted
would never have made it
through to our pockets and wallets
today. It would have been used up in minor expenses
the pinches and crises that pass without mention,
which we made it through without bloodshed or famine
in so many clever
and desperate ways.

I'd never take back, not for tenfold return
all the money we burned through on nothing to burn
when we purchased so little of worth,
when we bought
a succession of moments that held

all we sought.

twilight way

We definitely went the wrong way.
Tall trees in front, above, behind us
turning into silhouettes, against
a pink and bright blue monster
streaming up with reaching tendrils pressed
above and over, peeking down at us
through one long rent - a gap
someone has scratched through thick black crayon wax,
along the bent and twisting trail
that trails behind
and bends ahead for miles and miles
- "how did we miss the turn?" I ask.
"there weren't any turns," you sigh
"But isn't this the way we came?" I say,
despite our upward climb. We know by now,
we should be going down - and soon,
we will be blind

Friday, February 18, 2011

believe the hype.

baby you and me girl
we will be so pompous
to announce our next scandal,
we will call the press conference

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

protect you

good, seeing you

Some dumb rock show huh? See the people around
bounce, bounce off

I will do my best to hold a space
around you.

My best is not bad
(it has to be)
This band is too great
to risk ruining it when you start kicking people!

But I don't know why - after all that is past,
why I am happiest
when I can circle my arms
around your shoulders protecting you.
as if you need it. as if you ever did

did I shrink and you grow,
since the days when I thought you did?

and now
do I grow, and you shrink? my gorillalike forelimbs
sheltering your birdlike bones - no,

you are strong. Not hollow, nor fragile, yet you
lean in

just a little,
and I am sure I am neither so strong, nor so clumsy as my hands
suggest -

And there is nothing between us to protect,


but you.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Quite A Bit!

Do you know how much I love you?

It would be impossible for you to know.
Your puny mind can't comprehend it.

The enormity of the force of the sheer feeling
that I have for you in my heart
would shatter any number of lesser hearts,
like yours. To bits. Just be glad: this burden

is mine, to bear. You will never know the force
of it. The force
of how much I love you.

But no, don't thank me!

I do it gladly.

Such is the strength of my love, that it makes light
of paltry burdens.

insomnia afternoon

why is it so bright
I mean
my eyes are swimming
skies are shock cerulean blue
and clouds are white, like magic white
in towered blocks
but I can't sleep forever, yet
it's like a waking nightmare, oh
so beautiful,
I hold it back
as this black ribbon winds me home

Saturday, February 12, 2011

this little old couple

this little old couple
sat right next to me at the bar
of the wine bar / cafe
that I sometimes frequent after work.
it can be hard to go home, when you know -
it's such a cute little place,
the food's really something.

this little old couple
at the little wine bar cafe
were so adorable
they asked about what I had picked,
and was it good?

it was. The husband ordered the same thing, and
I wasn't listening in

but they were so adorable
that my heart broke open again.
once again, another damn time
with both halves cleanly-split
like my salad's avocado - with its hard,
heavy pit -
from the loss of the one
who I thought I would grow old

It can be hard to go home, when you know -
what you know. But, you know,
I'm not ready - I've never been ready
to give up. But

I guess I need someone new
to grow old with.

Sunday, February 06, 2011

geometric rates

our love should increase at a geometric rate
as I grow exponentially into your life
and the angles and arcs of your heart fill with sparks
from the lines and the
I failed geometry.

your mercy, you know

I'm pretty much at your mercy, you know.
Though you may know it not.
Your sword-point is poised,
- hanging by a far slimmer gossamer thread
than the one under which ol' Damocles sat - and aimed
by a perfect hand with perfect eye,
in one blade-straight line from the center of my heart
up tip, foible, forte, hilt, pommel,
to the sky.
Note -
not the bottom of my heart.
No, nor the top -
but the center.

You, dear, will run me through
one of these days.
(if in fact, you haven't already -
that sword of yours
- so sharp, I may not feel the pain
'til I fall)

invisible light

her invisible light
shines out from between the stars
and she colors the night
an invisible shade of blue

as she gets on my mind, I bow my head
from the weight of one thought

which is weightless itself!

- but freighted like chains,
and chests of gold
from the pondering
that I have put into it,
and shut the lid.


I can't see it, but

the light leads me on,
and I guess this is faith, or
tenacity, wait - what's the one
that is blind? Oh, love

Friday, February 04, 2011


that last poem is like
really throwing me off

I'm coming in here all
"poem time!"
"time to write a poem!"

then the first thing I see is all

it's anti-conducive to the mood, I tell you.

anti-conducive to the mood

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

I must be getting so much pussy

I must be getting so much pussy
he says, all
big smilin'
but -
it doesn't appear to be a self-contained statement.
he either thinks it's a question, or at least
he seems to want an answer

well hey man I got no complaints

bullshit he says
I must be swimming in it
again with the questioning glare

shoot, I hate to bust anyone's vicarious groove. But
is dude,
not really, I'm kind of a one woman man

bullshit again where is she?
finally a legitimate question mark at least. She's
elsewhere. hence the sigh and there's the rub

fuck that he says.
cut that distant bitch loose and live here now my man!
with this, he's adopted an almost fatherly,
wise, zen buddhist tone

because as he repeats:
I should be getting so much pussy
what am I a faggot?

now, he seems to actually want an answer to this.
well what do you mean, man?
he means, fuck!
with that fucking
line of patter of mine, and
the overall shape I cut
(I presume he means my jib)
I should be swimming in it
swimming in it

well fuck, pal - I'm a feminist ok? I don't need these
dalliances, depersonalizing the totality of a woman's being down
to some
pink hole in a sex engine

after a moment,
he asks me to repeat that

I repeat something else instead
a tad more couth, but he cuts me off

"feminism? fuck feminism" he asks

you're missing out my man, I confide
- feminist pussy is the best
he doesn't laugh
at that, but that's ok
(it's true!)

he's on full steam forward.
"fuck feminism!" he spits


I mean literally

the dude turned his head and spat. On the floor

I'm a bit at a loss by this point.
and well, not much to lose by capitulation, so "You
know what man? You called it. I
must be getting
so much

He knew it. With a big side-stache grin

He fucking knew it.

line cutters

I am a dead man
struck by eyes of you,
I can see all the way
from here to the end of this life
and it's all coming true
it's coming straight down
the line -

it's coming right at us

so hold on tight kid
and give us a kiss on the cheek,
for luck!

now forward
towards fate, we have turned
we are faced
we await the clank
and the rattling chain
yanking us inexorably up
that first

and you wait,
you push back and up
with your back, with trust
with my arms circled round
your waist - and your head tucked down
you whisper something
just once

well hang on for dear life, now

here it comes

a bit too personal

I like long walks on the beach
holding hands
I can dance, but I'd rather not lead
all those fancy footwork held-together
dance-step techniques and routines
they're too beautiful to see, oh, I wish that was me
but I can only dance free-
style, to

semi-modern music. Apart
- not together, dance apart
the way each person does their best,
and does their best to watch the other's best
and tries not to overstep
and maybe
apes or imitates a move or two
as long as it doesn't come across as being ridicule

that's how I dance
so as not to show you up, or
appear to be ridiculing you. In short,

I'm pretty considerate.

I like flowers, gourmet
desserts, a cigar
from time to time
and a woman who doesn't mind

but who is quite ready to speak her mind

none of that's to say
I'd be opposed to taking a dance class! or
couple's therapy, whatever -
it's all tantamount. The upshot is:
people need help. Sometimes


I'm very romantic, maybe even Romantic
with the capital "R", as if to say
I come in after Classical, and sneer down at Modern
from a cape-tossing windswept height,
from far up upon my quaint, antiquated antihero amoral basis
that makes the world and me all seem, well
pretty awesome, but I digress.

Besides, who can really say what's best?

I've said too much.
I leave it to you,
you know what you want!

I guess

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

There's this girl

There's this girl who's pretty tall
maybe tall as I am!
or even taller maybe, even
or shorter than that, or else
maybe WAY shorter. That's all
cool too, 'cause she's all
casual about it -
with an ass like BOMP
and some medium boobs, yeah,
you know the kind
or maybe flip it: BOMP boobs,
and a medium behind
but she's got these very
very-specific eyes


that girl's beautiful, no

that's no lie

a drinking contest between me and the wine.

my eyes are lips - not windows, no
(they drink you in) but still they lead
straight to my soul

my soul's been put
in such a state I'd call it drunk,
from drinking you

but that's no sin
I tip you back
and drink my fill. My heart is lifted high -

my eyes, so full of you they start to swim -

my mind's lost touch, my fingers slide
and slip - but not a drop is

Now, drain the glass
now, fill

this one last glass to brim
is overkill
but raise it up
to light
to life
to you

too much

too much

to quite take in

This thirst won't quench -

just one more glass


you win