but aren't they all random?



A Pocketful of Poesy was a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog* up until the great derail of 2013. The impossibly-high standard of quality proved impractical to keep up, without a book deal. But don't take my word for it: click RANDOM and judge for yourself! And feel free to offer your critique.
*based on poem rate for calendar years 2009-2012. Also, kidding about the book deal.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

a good book

it's bright and blue, no storm outside
but the wind shakes the house like rain,
in squalls

I am safe in bed,
with a book too sad to stick to, long
and no one calls

and no one knocks, thank God
I'm safe

I'm safe at home. Today, at least
no one, nothing, can touch me here

I lie on my back as the wind breaks leaves
against the house, in bushels-full
I look at my book

this book's so sad - I don't want to go back
but I have to, though

all the way to the end
if it's bad,
it's bad

the perfect thing

we want everyone to be
the perfect thing that they're not

WE want them to be.
They don't want that.

or maybe they do?
some of them do, it is true
they want to be that perfect thing

well

maybe together: the power of you
both, delusion times two

can fit flesh to the ghost
raise least to the most
undeserving, I know

but that's how it goes

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

m.i.a.

you totally belong
and we miss you when you're gone!
but we're all of us a bit too good
at trying not to push, to push
and trying not to pry, and I
suspect
we all suspect, we know
that none of us belong
either,

especially
when you go

faith + or - one

there is a god
we are alive now in his thought
and will live forever
in his memory

cradle bird

I want to cradle you like a bird
but it's not because you can't fly
or that you need, really need my protection
it's just that I love to protect you,
and wish I could

in point of fact: you can't fly
you're not a bird. You're a grown woman

women can't fly

I suppose they can get a pilot's license
but this is only a deflection, a

an evasion

to cover for the fact: they can't fly

tried

I tried to talk about myself
with you, just now
and I'm not sure if it worked

I realized that I never do talk about me
with you I always talk about
the world? I guess
or ideas. Dumb ones
all the things there are in the world
to scathe

and I scathe them
scathingly, to make you laugh
make your face hurt

but I talked about myself, or tried
just now, and you didn't laugh

I'm not sure if it worked.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

I burn books

all day, i choose them for content
and i dump them - covers akimbo
contents, chapters, spread open, vulnerable,
contained disarray in a big metal mesh
trash can

and then

i also have some wadded-up newspaper in there
packed loosely between and around the books
- for kindling, bitches!!!

and i light up a cigarette
take a long, slow pull of a drag on that puppy, and
get the coal all very good and hot and red
and i start fires

in the wadded up newspaper
and the fire spreads
like wildfire, and soon
the books catch:
bindings,
covers, blacking and smoking,
bubbling where there is ink, colorful
paperback covers turning black rainbows
hard covers, smoking
old, fabric covered covers burn dull and low
dust jackets, crisping into ash
thick wads of pages bowing and warping,
separating out, with razor-thin (paper-
thin) lines of fire tracing
the edges of the pages, as

heat expands

burning

Burn.

I stand well back from the soft roar
of literature, burning its way
into history

and I pick up my sign, as if this is
a demonstration.

My sign says

"I'm burning books!

It's ok
I have
a permit"

Monday, November 14, 2011

keeping

the shepherds were herding their sheep, anon
the bullwards were warding their bulls
the cowhands were handing their cows along
it was, all in all, in a thoroughly pastoral
sort of milieu that you I found each other
in our finding, and kept each other
in our keeping

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

purely to prove

mean
out of spite
purely to prove you broke me
I cracked into pieces
that slid apart
as I walked
away

Monday, November 07, 2011

Yes. Of Course!

You're asking a question that is almost
impossibly strange
for me to answer, the way you have
literally put it
into words. but, I think
I know exactly what you mean, and
and I am going to try to answer it,
hypothetically: if

I met a girl who
looked like you,
who talked like you,
who was you,
I might not think
or believe you were hitting on me, but
if you asked me out -
I'd be all "AW JEEZ
I should have beat you to it!"

So,

to answer you're question,

except when it is

It's not funny except when it is
not for the person who it's not funny for when

except when it is
there's the rub, there's the rub
rub it in now,
why don't you?

rub it in

Let's get it over with

have you already missed your shot at one true love?
have you quit waiting for your second chance to come?
have you already given up the ghost of it?
have you already traded in your membership?

hey there, happy! glad to see me?
we were on to something
bad at goodbyes
good at white lies
hey, you can't have everything
let's get it over with
let's get it over with
let's get it over with?
we're here

have you reached the point where you know that you'll never change?
have you figured out why everybody else is strange?
have you wished for someone
- to get hit by a shooting star?
have you lost
your illusions of how nice you are?

well, I've still got some
where's the shotgun
we can blow them all away
I don't care, really
seeing clearly
truth
is better than they say
let's get it over with
let's get it over with
let's get it over with?
we're here

wolf in sheep's clothes
bare beneath, though
set to howl and growl
and baah
sing it, baby
whatever, maybe
it's okay,
sera sera
let's get it over with
let's get it over with
let's get it over with?
we're here

Sunday, November 06, 2011

"Love Makes No Sense And So Do I"

predict it
go ahead see it coming
and she said:
exactly what she wanted
and she said
you're not the type I want
so I said -
well what's your favorite font?
Yeah well, love makes no sense
no makes no sense say yes
love makes no sense, and so do I
so what?
yeah, well, love makes no sense
no makes no sense say yes
love makes no sense, and so do I
so what?

and you know
what you look for in a man
and you'll find
your mister master plan
the future
is what really counts to you
but I'm sure
the present has its moments too
yeah, well, love makes no sense
no makes no sense say yes
love makes no sense, and so do I
so what?
yeah, well, love makes no sense
no makes no sense say yes
love makes no sense, and so do I
so what?

and they say: to thine own self be true
but I know who I am
and I'd rather be true to you
and wise men
say only fools rush in
but I can't help
falling in looooove with you

yeah, well, love makes no sense
no makes no sense say yes
love makes no sense, and so do I
so what?
yeah, well, love makes no sense
no makes no sense say yes
love makes no sense, and so do I
so what?

Thursday, November 03, 2011

serving suggest

When you are feeling down, and coming down,
and life has ideas of its own,
and the black clouds come over
then you can't help but cry
that's when it can get hard.
But that's just when it can help so much -
to get up
breathe, and walk down the hall
stand yourself in front of the machine
you pays your money, and
you press the button -
*CLUNKA*
- out drops an ice cold can of Coca-Cola.
Pull the tab - *PFSSST!* Sniff that bubbly fizz!
Hold that ice cold-can in your hot little hand! and then
SLAM THAT PUPPY! GLUG! GLUG! GLUG! GLUG!
"Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrp"
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"

DAMN

say it isn't

when news is this bad,
well what can you do? The mind shuts down.
The mouth stops cold, and
I pray you are putting me on.

oh how gladly
I'd be made a fool! Ten times out of ten
I never mind, if only you

could be ok

but I can't see or believe how that can be
I trust you

would not have told me
all of what I just heard
for fun.

please

make me wrong

tell me I'm wrong

tell me you got me good,
on this one

how many holes

This place,
without you, was bereft.
Bereft, bereft of you
in so many ways. Too many
ways to count. It's amazing
how many holes one person can leave,
when they've gone.

"Making Gaines"

I've been Driftin' Away, yeah
the Way of the Girl - like an Unsigned Letter
'bout the state of the world
so Lost in You, it's like Snow in July
and It Don't Matter to the Sun, Right Now
so I cry:

Maybe, if we could make Chris Gaines
put another album out -
the world could be the same
as it was back then!
so edgy and true
with a funky soul patch
under skies so blue

That's the Way I Remember It,
walking on Main Street,
Digging for Gold -
we knew life could be so sweet
'til we got beseiged -
can we ever get it back?
My Love Tells Me So - I won't
raise the White Flag, 'cause

Maybe, if we could make Chris Gaines
put another album out -
then the world could be the same
as it was back then!
so edgy and true
with a funky soul patch
under skies so blue

Wednesday, November 02, 2011

how badly

how badly do I need your help?
it can't be that bad, 'cause I'm asking
right? Oh you know if you can't, I can more
than take that
and on principle, use it
to fuel my fight.

If I really need help -
I would have to be so
deep and down,
trodden low,
that you'd never have heard

So, you know,
it's okay if you can't.
I'm okay, if you can't -
of complaint,
you will not
hear a word.

Tuesday, November 01, 2011

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