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, June 25, 2012

pygmalion ears

nothing in life makes as much sense
as what you told me, just that once
(which, as it turns out, I misunderstood
) are

you sure?

that you didn't mean that thing?
When nothing in life or reality
has ever made near that much sense to me

I swore
you were a genius, with
my best interests at heart
and I counted myself blessed,
in a universe

that had fallen into place, but

can just as easily fall apart:
it was only a work of art

my mind (or heart, or soul)
had sculpted

truth or beauty, but
alas, not both

some form took shape upon your words
that the pure marble of your intent
never meant

these curves, I chipped, smoothed and polished
in an instant

and conceived
what I wanted to hear.
I have trespassed upon


but I was
I swear,

completely sincere

for a minute
I thought

all so clear.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

no reason

again and again I intend no offense
I'm telling you these things
because they make sense - to me,
they do - and for no other reason.
The ways I've gone wrong, I don't mind
if you see them. It all started out
in my childhood, now. We had neighbors
three doors down, a family - whose
father would die quite suddenly,
all the time, what a nuisance -
I learned nothing from them at
all. And from my own mother! She
often made things I don't like
to eat. This left upon me - not
scars, but a certain unwillingness
to mince words, or to lard or freight
them with "purpose." Things

should be said for no reason,

or not at all.

Friday, June 22, 2012

"so much better"

show me your eyes
don't you know what you want?
you don't have to try to convince me, if you don't
you don't have to lie, either way
just say you don't care
if I get up and jump out a window to leave you alone
you don't have to try
you don't have to give
but you'll lose it if
you don't make up your mind

and I know it doesn't matter what I mean or what I say
but I'd be feeling so much
better, if you'd stay

it's hard to explain
there I was just as happy as anyone
we were both just as happy as anyone
(till now)
(I thought)
and if I was wrong -
can't I try to make it up now?
why is it too late now?
tell me it's not too late
you don't have to lie
you don't have to care
but there's too much here
to throw it all away

and I know it doesn't matter what I mean or what I say
but I'd be feeling so much
better, if you'd stay

I feel like you're gone
like I can't do a thing
I guess I was wrong not to see this long ago
so how many times
(when you said that you loved me?)
tell me how long has it been, since you were sure?
you don't have to say
it won't matter now
you just have to do what it's best for you to do
you can just walk away
'cause I don't know how
I guess everything you never said
was true

and I know it doesn't matter
if you never let me know
and I won't try to make it better
if you're sure you want to go
and I know it doesn't matter
what I mean or what I say
but I'd be feeling so much

if you'd stay

Thursday, June 21, 2012


Darling, your mind
is the devil's workshop, let alone
"idle hands" that guy
was called "Light"
but you know what? you
could shed far more than he
pretended to. He Accused,
you only critiqued,
and complained
you could see What It Is
even though
you were pained, you
did not
cast the blame
upon some cosmic cause
"I can see," so you said
"It is good,"
There are laws.

If anyone thinks

If anyone thinks

I'm the indestructable
guardian of right,
able to slice and dice and justify, well
I just might

but, you'd be wrong
to think that of me. It's too high
an expectation.

If anyone thinks
I'm a real human being, and knows it, and I know it. If
that's what you think, if you know
(or think) I'm full of shit, well:
you'd be wrong. I just took a shit,
and that was all the shit I had on.

Or in me.

But if anyone thinks I think I am the shit,
or that my shit don't stink, or I think that it does
n't, well, I'll tell you what: mine is the scent
of the rose,
freshly fertilized. So strong, it grows. But *PHEW*
if anyone thinks
I'm better (or think that I'm better) then they are,
they are sadly

Mistaken. Or, if anyone thinks

that I think I am better
than anyone, I hope I am shot in the face
before that evaluation
can even take place.

Because: Opinions

are severable from people, people. Mine
are (to my mind) better than equal, better
than the ones
that I had before, but

against the world?

I am not keeping score. I

can be no better
than anything that's yours. Because if I was,
I am a piece of shit. Worse

than that. This is the place where I admit
I am smacked. If anyone thinks...

what is wrong
is right
whatever belongs
has anything to do with
what any other person has opinions of

or on

well, that's either wrong, or I guess
it's right

but I'm not the judge.

If anyone thinks

that I'm right...

...I wish I was.

If anyone thinks I'm wrong...

...I hope I learn.

If anyone thinks I am straight,

I hope I swerve.

If anyone thinks I'm damned,

I hope I burn.

At least enough

for me to learn why
they thought I deserved an eternity of earned
punishment. I

also hope they're wrong.

Not my call, but

the more I learn
I expect to be able to accept

of how
and why
and what.

Where do I...?!

Where do I get off
liking you so much, I don't
know you
know you
know I
do I?

know you at all,
no! I

do I?


feel like I do.

Do you?

There's no way
of asking this
is there

My life,
is the story
of that.

no one's breaking into my house

every day, I take precautions
and every night, I sleep
with weapons, and
no one's breaking in
to my house, I'm checking each
time, window, door
I am secure, verifiably
secure, and
can I call off the alert?
no one's stalking
no one's trying to prove me
wrong, kill me: a monster, no one's
trying anymore,

to protect the world
from me, with heroic measures
all of it was a joke
but how
do you trust a joke
from a monster
you cannot trust
when some one tells you, they
will slap your parents, show up


am a literalist, someone tells you
they may show up uninvited

one day, they will

it's insane to joke
about things that kill

the worst

I almost confessed to you
so many things that would have hurt me, forever
for you to know
you have know idea, how willing
was I
to spill everything out,
all the worst
that is in me
(cause it is)
with no lie
no conceal
no ulterior
I was at one
with the need to make sure
you knew exactly what you were getting
no false advertising

you know what?
you missed the moment
and I guess you will never know, but

I am still there.

Full disclosure

at will.


so what.

You would have found out, anyway
except you won't.




Wednesday, June 20, 2012


None of what I know
about me helps. And
it sucks, because I
worked for forever
trying to find it
out. And it was

so much better

than when I didn't know myself
at all, or I thought so.

But it doesn't actually make a difference.

I've built
a ship in a bottle; perfect,
and becalmed.

Monday, June 18, 2012

"Think Too Much"

well the thoughts that I get
have been getting so hard to entertain
in the back of my head
your words are running circles around my brain
and I heard what you said
but it's making less sense to me each time
it plays back in my head
I hit play
stop, rewind

she thinks
I think too much
she speaks for both of us
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right enough

I'm not sure where we stand
but I'd like to get back to lying down
with you holding my hand
and the rest of my life all figured out
with our backs too the floor
asking all the right questions you'll ignore
with a turn of your head
your eyes
it's all been said

she thinks
I think too much
she speaks for both of us
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right enough
she thinks
I think too much
she says I'm too in love
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right

with that look on your face
- is there something inside you're holding back?
when you look into space
- are the aliens making eye contact?
are you reading my thought
am I thinking some thing I shouldn't ought to be
thinking at all?
and if so
who's responsible?

she thinks
I think too much
she speaks for both of us
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right enough
she thinks
I think too much
she says I'm too in love
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right

Friday, June 15, 2012

please, some compassion for the insensitive

Some of us find
it's easy to see,
to foresee
to five see
to sixth sense it, some of us
have a seemingly preternatural zen
sense for others' hot buttons
and no-cross lines. How easy
life and human interaction
must seem, for those people

For those unfortunates among us, who
try as they might, are constantly told
they are tone-deaf to the infinitely
subtle, sprawling, intricate web of sensitivity,
woven in beautiful snarls from the threads
that each and every individual
differently spins out into the air
- and expects to see respected!
- for those who are not so blessed
with such fine-honed sense
of what is about to be taken askance, I
will make my plea now:

That compassion be extended.

have compassion for those who, this time around,
were not able to predict your particular sensitivity up-front.

So many suffer through life,
born through no fault of their own,
with no Spider-Sense that goes off clanging alarum
on anything that might trip or set off
the jangling sensitivities of this
or that specific other person. Life
can be very hard for these,
the sensitivity-impaired. Many of them
are honestly and sincerely, compassionate individuals
- who try hard, often, hard as fuck,
and who would and do hate to cause
hurt, harm, or upset, and who every time
it happens every damn time, it happens and I
am left wringing my hands after, helplessly
they, I mean, are left wringing their hearts and heads, trying
to figure out how
to see it coming next time
And coming up empty,
blindsided again. When you find yourself

in a world where so many
people's taboos and sensitivities
strike you as impossible
to predict or even to understand, sometimes
the only possible solution you come up with is:

to shut the hell up already.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

ahead, on-balance

the universe is a gift too good to send back.
Which is good
because customer service is sacked, you lost
the receipt, and it was free admission
to begin with, jack.

a great deal!

It's true
it doesn't always work out for everybody.
Plenty of times, not even for me. You know,
life is not just a great deal. It's a great deal
of pain

But you know what?

Fuck it. Right?

The pattern so far,
I come through scathed,
pounded, broken and eventually saved,
rescued, by the proper authorities or
some kind soul. And what's on the other side,
long before the healing begins, torn and aching
and bandaged or maybe just, bleeding from a wound
in one's pride - once you've come through
the immediate threat of death, what is
on the other side is worth
getting over it for.

After enough broken skin and bones, you begin
to think you have a charmed life. The reminders strike
you as talismans.

I kind of like the shiny pink streaks of skin,
where the low volcano mountain range of scabs
falls away.

I like that they last a long while, then fade.

I'm really quite fond of nature red in tooth and claw.
Food poisoning? So fucking what? I'm having some more

Germs, they have to eat and fuck, too. I expect I'll die
in writhing agony, one of these days. I might luck out,
but...whether I do or not, I still say: life
is a bargain.

A great fucking deal. No doubt.

If I were an atheist, I'd say the same damn
thing. Damn. Either way:

I paid nothing to get in. And most of it - especially
the literature and the museums! - it's enough to blow
your fucking mind, let alone rock and roll

Do you realize that when they let me in the door,
that was my pre-ticket ticket to potentially,
every rock show going? It's a dilemma,
just to orchestrate the logistics
of which ones you can fit in. Fuck.

After all's send and done, I hope
I don't "bitch out" later. Start
whining. It'd be pretty churlish,
pretty childish, when everything
up to that moment was free, to complain

about the occasional rifle bullet

exiting my skull

letting out my brain

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

certain logic

There's a certain logic
to what you don't.

You've never been one to forge a chain, but

link by link,
so absently,

you're binding me fast, with nothing
that we

can ascertain.

part of my faith

I lost part of my faith
but it's okay
I know where it is, if I'm ever that safe
if I'm ever that dumb, if I'm ever
that slow

it's behind me right now
catching up to me


Monday, June 11, 2012

No Misanthrope

sometimes I dress in black
sometimes I hate the world
sometimes it touches me
in ways I don't deserve
keep your labels off of me
you don't have the first idea
any box you put me in
will be com plete ly emp ty I'm


mis an thrope






people are fine
I'm no misanthrope -



sometimes I hate myself
I still think I'm okay
I get self-critical
it's probably not a phase
keep your feelings off of me
you don't have the worst idea
thank you for the shoulder in my face - that's snot
it's not tears


mis an thrope






people are fine
I'm no misanthrope -



any box you put me in will be completely emp ty
but if you draw a line around me where I stand,
please look. See: I am here, defined by you.
The line you drew - I did not move.
I was and am definitively: me,
and free,
at liberty, and I'm

I'm no misanthrope
love life
I'm no misanthrope
are fine
I'm no misanthrope

And I don't care what lines you see.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

I can't talk long

I can only talk to you for an hour
two at the most
there's a terrible lot of housework I've been trying to put off
I must get to it, more or less-immediately,
I can take a break for a moment, before I begin
to talk to you forever

if I can

Saturday, June 09, 2012

some other fate

can't help but wonder what it would all be like
if things had all been different
if everything had all gone down
in a different way -

would things still have turned out the same?

I can't help but think
things might be changed. I can't help but dwell
on all the ways

and what would have happened
to you and me?

or would it have all just ended up
like we did
like it was
I wish I could say "we'll see," but
of course we won't.

Maybe everything was all just supposed
to turn out
like it did

like it does

as if pre-arranged. but
if everything were different, leading up
like if we were both bananas, or
feet; feet with human hearts
and souls - you a right foot, me a left -
like Montagues and Capulets,
foredoomed to a love that everyone hates
well, even with just that little change, up front
it's so clear it could never unfold the same way

to change just one thing, changes everything else
to some other fate

but it hardly helps.

when i was a kid

when i was a kid,
my brother had a poster on the wall
of everything

I would look at it all day
and not figure it out
maybe so there'd be something left
to try to figure out

when he left home,
the poster stayed
it wasn't my room anymore
it wasn't my room anymore, but
I stayed a few years, and then I
left a few years

when I came back,
the whole wall was empty,
and painted gray