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.

Monday, April 30, 2012

"Ceremonial"

here

we are

and we're ready

to begin the act, the stage

is set

there's no hurry,

and no turning back, you know

your role - but you tremble

'cause it means so much to you, to make it great

make every gesture captivate

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can breathe it in, like incense
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
it could mean anything

fake

rehearsed

artificial - such is life, but it means

everything

you put into

on performance night, you catch

your breath

and leap outward - it's a leap of faith

you trust yourself to make

your instinct says it's no mistake

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can sink in it, like quicksand
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
it doesn't mean anything

when the curtain falls, and darkness draws around

you

to a crash of applause - you left the audience

all dumbfounded

and your curtain calls, could have gone on and on, for hours and hours

but,
you

steal

away, with red hearts bunched in tight bouquets


lose

the wardrobe, and make up

and go natural,

you step

with command - into spotlight

without self-control, you know

what's next

isn't scripted, but you have the words by heart

by heart

the house lights fading into dark

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can breathe it in, like incense
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
and it means everything

Sunday, April 29, 2012

unsupported

nothing is under the stars
but us
our faith in the ground
can't hold us up
our particles fall

through all points between

not from what we are, but
by what we mean

Thursday, April 26, 2012

"3 Wishes"


If some genie in a bottle told me I could speak my mind
and he said I could have everything if I just asked him right
well I don't need
no lottery, if you're not mine!
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

for the first wish,
I would get to MEET YOU!!!
AGAINST YOUR WILL!!!!!?!?!!
but you'd look at me ...
and you'd kinda like it

and we'd go on a date, and you would hate all my opinions
but you'd keep it to yourself, and you'd wonder what
came over you, but
I
won't
tell!

If some demon in a bottle said I had three souls to sell,
and that all of them were mine, and none would have to go to hell
well I believe
I've already made up my mind!
if I had 3 wishes I would wish for you,
three times

for the second wish, I would buy you lots of
FANCY CLOTHES
and you'd look at me -
and you'd kinda like it

then you'd put them on, parade around
in public by my side
and you'd wonder what came over you, but
you
won't
mind!

If some jesus in a bible said he'd heed my every prayer
if I only asked for him by name, he'd kick it straight upstairs
well I don't need
predestiny, if you're not mine
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

if I had 3 wishes, I would wish for you -
three times

For the third wish
you'd take all your CLOTHES OFF
and DANCE AROUND!!
and you'd look it me,
and I'd kinda like it

then we'd go to the church, and we would get MARRIED
and you'd love me A LOT
'cause I love you so profoundly, you'd
be like:
"this dude's
SO HOT."

If some genie in a bottle told me I could speak my mind,
and he said I could have everything if I just asked him right
well I don't need
too much world peace, if you're not mine
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

no I don't need
nothing, you see - if you're not mine
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

if I had 3 wishes, I would wish for you -
three times

requiem

If I die every day, for
the rest of my life, it
could not cancel out one day's joy
that you gave

and heaven or hell
will have to work hard
to live up to just one
of our days

that you made

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Not if I have anything

Divide and conquer
has long been a favorite tactic
of the aspiring tyrant.

And how better to divide,
than to destabilize the power structure,
stoke paranoia on all sides,
appeal to one faction's cherished bias
and get it to self-identify
with your own movement's drive
for power?

Then, foster in your supporters
suspicion of all movements
that call for the solidarity
of the oppressed of any stripe.
Get your supporters to damn
those who rally in favor
of civil liberties
and human rights
as subversives.

Bitter irony,
in a nation founded
so strongly on the primacy
of the fundamental, inalienable
human rights of the individual
that the simple, self-evident truths
of those founding principles,
embodied in the Bill of Rights,
have dragged us kicking and screaming
feet-first from our founding, steeped
in patriarchal slaveholding aristocracy,
through and out of mire after mire
of religious, racial, and sexual
bigotry. To fail now? To fall here?

Not if I have anything to fucking say about it.

Monday, April 23, 2012

lay me down

if I meet you in my dreams
don't kill me with your charms,
I am planning to wake up,
alive,
and well, in your arms

Sunday, April 22, 2012

general chicken and rice for one, please!

how can this possibly be rice for one?
this great steamy pile of white and fluff
the tasteless expanse of substantial stuff
I will drown you in sauce-drowned
chicken-fried parts, and let it soak in.
And then I will start.

I will eat up to half,
and I'll see if I can call it "enough,"
dump the rest of this delicious mess
in a white to-go bin, or guess what?
I might need to finish the rest.

Hey, do you want some?

FAQ #8: "Why even bother?"

This question
makes me sad. Because
I don't know. I'm not sure. Why bother?

Ultimately we can't know what comes next, or
how what we're doing now will pan out, or tie in
to what eventually happens to us. Does that mean

what we do doesn't matter? Or does it just mean,
we can't know whether or not it ultimately will matter?

I try to live
my life in such a way
that it matters as I go. Even if
in no cosmic sense. Even if in no grand,
or important sense. Even if at the very end
of the day when all the turns are tallied, some grim accountant
will scratch out a running reconciliation of credits and debts,
and sum it all up with a naught.

Screw that guy.
If that is the best math he can come up with? Then:

He is the one that doesn't matter.

Why even bother?
One, I bother because I ought
Two,

I bother,

because it is worth the bother, and because
it's no bother to me, to bother.

It would bother me very much not to.

"How's the weather?"

It's quite cold
for California. Thick rimes
of frost in the morning coating the ice plant. Scraping
of windshields necessary, if I plan
to drive to work.

I like the walk,
though! Cold
funneling into lungs,
through scarf-wrapped throat, then

expelled

vigorously

in a futile attempt to make interesting steam-shapes!

It's not really quite cold enough for that. All I get is puffs

In general, the weather
here is temperate.

The proximity of the Monterey Bay

has a regulating influence in the summertime,
keeping the nights from getting overly cool
or the days too hot.

Winters
can be rainy, but
the past several seasons have been mild. We
never if ever
get snow or much road ice,

excepting the occasional - and deadly! - black ice at the summit
on Highway 17
"over the hill," the Santa Cruz Mountains
into "Silicon Valley."

How's the weather where you are?

"How About It?"

In general, yeah: I'm up for it! Let's
figure out the details. I'd like to hear
a little more, maybe plan forward, see
how and where it all fits
into the various schedules
floating around, obviously we
can't go leaping into the nebulous. Unless
we've got nothing better to do, I guess!
Of course!

- sometimes, that can be fun!

But yeah, let's
unroll the blueprint, pick
apart the specifics, and lay out
the trajectory of this ol' bitch,
because in general, when it comes
to busting forth on a lark
or a well-planned campaign,
or when it comes to letting the AAA map
flap its way right out the open window
on its own (and figure out how to refold
its damn self!) shifting off-road
at a moment's notice, because
a sudden better opportunity has
presented itself -

in general, I'd say:

I'm pretty much down with that!

That's very much how I prefer it, in fact.

FAQ #5: "Is it true?"

It is.

"Joe, who the fuck?"

Who am I
is a far more complex
question. I am

the sweet singer of silken dreams
that pass through the minds of monolithic machines, I am

the kind caretaker of forbidden forms, who snuggle up against me
but can never get warm, I am

the hard-bitten wish-list enthusiast of dismissed views
that were once unquestionably true, but that now are only kept
and understood by few
to none,
including me. I leave

them presents every year beneath my Christmas tree. I am

the morning dew, in a valley undersea. I am

the question in you

that says: "huh?"

FAQ #3: "Joe, why the fuck?"

I'm choosing to look at this as
a very different question to "Joe,
what the fuck?"

I interpret "what the fuck?"
as having an unspoken and understood

"...d'ja do that for?" or "...was that in aid of...?"

at the end of it. Which covers
most of the "why" aspect. But
I'm interpreting this
question as more
someone turning their eyes to me
with something more cosmic in mind, a la:

"Joe, why the fuck
do things happen as they do in life...?"

Well, wow. See,
I wish I could give more comfort on questions
like these. All I can do

is echo my own earlier sentiments and say
that this, too,
for me,

is a frequently asked question.

"What are you on??"

This varies
with the time of day. Note:
at any or all of the below hours, I may
well be sound asleep. But if I'm awake,
here's what I'm probably on:
12am-2am:
adrenaline.

2:01am-3am:
blessed descending satisfaction (I'm
about never up at 2am, but when I am,
that's what I'm on)

3:01am-4:59AM:
fumes

5:00am-7:59am:
sunshine, or
the promise thereof

8:00am-11:59am:
caffeine

12:00pm-4:59pm:
endorphin rush from achievement high

5:00pm-11:59pm:
a little beer, a little wine,
maybe

NOTE: on weekends, there's some bleed-over between
the 12pm and 5pm sectors. Naturally. And that
is about all I'm on! Very occasionally, toss
a little nicotine in there! Nicotine
can be an exceptional high,
as long as you never make a habit of it.
It's a crap high, once you're hooked - nicotine
does not respect its addicts.

Be warned.

My tip? Never buy your own nicotine. It's kept me
from being
addicted.

"Joe, what the fuck?"

This could even be a
Frequently Asked Question
in terms of just what I ask myself

The truth is, I scarcely know
what the fuck. Events and obstacles

lean out at me from the mists
of looming future dooms and I just

have at 'em, pretty much on instinct.
My reactions to any perceived opportunity

or threat are as instantaneous
as they are capricious. Rarely

can I look back and figure out why
I did what I did, specifically - or

even why I said what I said. But
in general, I'm pretty confident

it was the right thing. Sometime,

the only answer
to "what the fuck?" is

"fuckin' because, dude."

Saturday, April 21, 2012

attune

Kid, I'm immune to perfection critiques
I don't even believe
in another man's beats
but melody-wise, I

love to coincide

- as I drag the whole harmony along, for the ride

my dream girl's made

my dream girl's made of human being
and self-esteem, and chicken wing,
and oxygen, and made of sex
(oh pretty much, what you'd expect)
and maybe me, a little bit (well,
not much more than that will fit
- you can't be made
of someone else, to any
large degree that helps)

She's made of standards
- real damn high.
Hard liquor, poured
in soft drink fizz,
and mental health, and just a bit
of some kind of delicious pie,

and beer and wine, and maybe milk
and cereal, and peanut-butter
sandwiches with peanut-butter:
creamy style and smashed-in
thin potato chips, for just
the perfect salt and crisp.

She's also made
of marble skin,
with blush of evening
sunset rose
at close of day.
And all the other
good that fits,
like skinny clothes
- a little tight,
sometimes! Like life
in second skin, it's
not uncomfortable,
I'd have to say: For me
at least, it fits.
I like the way. For her,
I think she's conscious that
I wear her well, and she wears
me, we make each other look
so good,

but that some other guy might be
a slightly better fit
for her.

Well maybe, yes
he probably would.

a dirge too soon

Times is hard
people are hurting
death's come to call
and there ain't no flirting

Monday, April 16, 2012

"The Day They Took The Network Down"

I was kicking such ass
this morning, today,
and into the afternoon, it
was looking like inevitable,

The network is down. And now I've run out
of (meaningful) conference calls, except
for the ones that need data in front
of me to be confident, competent
even. To be done, there is nothing.
To be done, there remains everything.

It is as if
some bastard named IT
planned my Monday to fail, to derail,

The day they took the network
down, an announcement went out
- so that's suspicious. It was planned,
clearly! - So was I! - I had things
all wrapped up by five! I had things
planned. When I wanted to leave today,
on time for once - but if this cunt
computer wants to come up at four,
by four-thirty, I'll be stuck here
for approximately ever, tonight.
Until I can make up, for all that could
have been right. Until I make up, for all
that was

lost. The day they took the network down, and
what it cost. But fuck it. But Fuck It. BUT
FUCK IT.

BUTT FUCK IT.

butt fuck IT!

If only I didn't give a toss.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

the people you may never know

the people you may never know
are searching for you, even now
to worm their ways into your lives
of public, private, personal
you'll think you know them!
yes, you will - you'll just assume
they're just like you
just kind of generally okay
until the day you find out hard
you can't tell who these people are
they look just like the others do
the ones who smile, and mean, and say
and are and seem, who do not play,
or if they do - it's not to trick
you. The people you may never know
are not like that. They're something
else. Don't let one bit of you betray
your self to them! These people they
are everywhere - they can't be seen!
- or spotted, or identified. Until
they slip, and tip you off
to their inhuman tricks, and
monstrous lies. And after that,
you will be wise.

"nice"

I don't really like what you've
done. Normally, you set no foot
wrong

that I've seen; your judgment
- impeccable, in my opinion.
And of course, my opinion
doesn't govern in matters
of yours. But I really don't
like

what you've done. You see,

I see (or I think I see)
what you were trying to do,
and it looks good on you - or maybe,
you make it look good. But it doesn't say "you"

to me. And maybe,
that's part

of what you were trying to say?
to me, or
to the world in general, "Hey,
this is me:
you had me wrong."

Well, we'll see.

If so, I have certainly loved having you
wrong. And I look forward to getting you
right. And what you've done
could grow on me, or on you,
or both of us
simultaneously, but

for now, for tonight,
in this moment of first glance, leaving open
the possibility of all second chance and third time
charm, or a further acquisition of taste
on my part,

I don't really like what you've done.

I woke up.

"cured"

I woke up cured of all the dumb
attachments I had
suffered from.

Friday, April 13, 2012

"some days"

you
are one lovely arrangement
of curves and lines,
of limbs and sighs,
a silk voice, luxurious,
bourbon-soaked with meaning,
with intent

all forces combined
into one sudden statement of -
"so
damn
fine,"
- and some days,
I wish you were mine.

Other days I'm just glad
I get to waste your
time.

But some days I wish
I could own you:
mine.

Mind, body and soul
and not control
one tick of your clock
or lick of your tongue
one click of your thought
process, gliding serenely along
to smack me backwards, where
and whenever one of us
is most
definitely
wrong. To get me
exactly
what
I could never have known I would have begged to know,
but cannot stop wanting again,
once shown.

For you:
to own
my attention
my affection
my devotion,
my loyalty
grown
unruly,
unmanageably
wild and
truly

strong,
and unstoppably
calm.

At rest in you; owning,
and owned.

Some days, I want just
to see you and all you
make and do, and say:

This.

You are mine. In every way

Those are just some days. Other days, it feels
as if
it would be somehow more true
to say, instead

"someday"

extreme danger

Fair warning to you, in case
you care: I am
in extreme danger, here
of falling forever, thrown in
with this other
bitch

who unless you can do
what you need to do, what we both
once (I swore!) knew - you need
to pull this switch, and
- she won't care! she doesn't
really love me anyway,


you
and I
must both be sure.

She's
settling. Because I'm better
than the best thing
she could ever get, and she
ain't so bad herself, you know. And better yet
- better than her, I could not get
on my own, without
your help - but

without your help

I would rather have the woman
of my dreams
from back when I had dreams,

than the woman of my daydreams
in every day since.

Don't wince. There is
no real decision
to be made here.

You can't convince yourself
into being convinced.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

"Cat"

Your exquisite leaps
of body, and voluptuous mind,
your eyes
cannot be held, but only be held
by mine, you play with reality
like a rubber ball toy
like your favorite piece
of string, like a bundle of joy

but you're easily so bored
like nobility at court

but you're so easily amused
by you, darling

you

stage 5

and I don't know why all I want is you.
but I wish I could want something else
and I wish I could want someone else
and I don't know why every heaven is hell
and if every thing I ever dreamed I could have
came true -
it would mean only torment and agony, now
I don't know how
you came to cast everything out
the swap meet antiques show
has been cleared and kicked, chased
from the temple, now there is only
an empty space
waiting for a sacrifice that will never be brought
before this altar.

Once, for years, you gave
everything you had for me.

it was then
that I needed to find some way

Now it's not too late, it's just gone wrong ways
things in this world do not get straightened out. If
you find something right, the only thing you can do
is keep it that way. There are no second chances,
because the first time was not chance. But

I don't know why it matters so much. There
should be another turn left, on the board
another way to go, to make good, to score
and there isn't anymore. And I don't want
there to be. All I want is you.

I can live with me.

unsub

I'm not as invulnerable as I appeared to be
when you first saw me,
and every day since, but
I am indomitable
it just means I am bleeding, and
my clothes can soak it up
I can suck it up
you can
shut your trap
because
I won't fall into it. What
could you tell, from the first hundred cuts?
I didn't flinch, and I didn't
fight back, so I just
must have been enjoying it? I'm glad
you have found a dynamic
you can cinch
with a knot, pull taut
and gather your life into. I
would work like that
if I could.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

my muse, fury and fate

when you look at yourself,
in the glass of a pond
I hope you know: vanity
is the only response to you
that sanity could have.

and you deserve it all, the fond
devotion, the attention you lavish -
ravish yourself, I will take
what's left, darling - you
come first: so deserving
of your self, and all its
beauty! you are so
poetic, the greeks
could use you
to teach
exemplary form,
in fine clear musical
voice, a rhythm that brings
grown men to tears, ah! if only

any
had the ear
to hear, or the eye

to hold
your gaze,
or if any had your hand,
to steer them through
this maze, you

would be waiting
at the center of it all
to devour my days

Sunday, April 08, 2012

her heavy hand

her heavy hand lies everywhere
and every crisis feels its touch
as if to say, "I'm here! there, there"
oh crisis, you're
a little much

Saturday, April 07, 2012

A Word For What

Take a word. For what?
Its worth, and nothing
more.
Assume that I'm telling the truth to you
for any and all of the good it'll do
- and what if I lied? If I'm not sincere?
does the moon turn to cheese after all these years?

Oh, I fear that the moon is still moon,
my dear. My darling, my sweet
little fool - don't believe that
a thing can only be true if the one
who told it to you
is believing it too.

That is only the case in
three very clear words.

Every other statement,
assertion,
absurd
or plain and humorless; every other
opinion, every other claimed
fact: can be taken apart,
can be turned white and black
with a high-contrast lens,
rationality-wise - put
that filter in place for your rose
-colored eyes, then
when you've seen it sharp,
like a clean, bright line

dial nuance back in, into fine
gray shades, then
discard shadow-play
and let color return:

assume that the one
who is talking to you
- who you're taking the time to hear -
believes what they say.

You have nothing to lose
by this.

Don't be an idiot.

What
does it cost you, just
to assume truth? If you fall
for it - if you believe
they believe -

do you owe them money?

Take their words for free,
with a free and easy benefit
-of-doubt that benefits you
far more
than it does the other fool. Who cares

what the other fool believes?

You'll find you can take their words
on credit, not faith, for what they are worth
on merit alone. And that

will make the truth pleasant and free,
as easy to see and as sweet as home
to come home to.

Whether they believe what they say
or not
(except professed love)
matters not a whit.

Have I been fooled? By a trickery, what?
By a lie or two? Well what did they get?

Away with it!

Apart from claimed love,
doesn't matter what's meant.
There is no truth value at all
in intent.
The only truth you can get
is right there in the words: if
there's any at all, it isn't
in whether or not that person's
a jerk. That's a concern
that doesn't so much
as touch the truth
of the thing they've said. So take them

for everything that they're worth.

The fool who "tricks you" - when you take every word
at its face-value
- that fool has been fooled. For you
have stolen true truth
from what they believed was a lie, stolen wisdom
from what they believed was a ruse.

From me,
you could get anything that you choose.
Take my words for whatever they're worth
to you: but

only if you can assume they are true.

Ask what I mean,

and I'll answer you.

Thursday, April 05, 2012

a moment before the music, Pt.3

a moment before the music ends
for good, there is a pause in the score
that is unplanned. A program self-conducted,
self-written, collaborative, impromptu. We
did all we could; we did all we knew (and
half what we had forgotten) to return
the tempo, baton in hand - but the loss
has already passed over the faces of
players and audience, all of us
both of us. And we stop, lay
it down, and stand.

there will be no applause

a moment before the music, pt.2

a moment before the music begins,
the crowds have all parted
and ordered themselves into mismatched twins.
And you and I regard them with amusement,
in slow glances, and each other
in glances caught and stolen. There is
no intent, in a moment like this
We're there on the floor,
but it's not too late
to go. The door,
because it is there,
calls. A moment before
the music begins,
it ends. From opposite ends of the hall,
the exits
have pulled us apart
again.

Wednesday, April 04, 2012

a moment before the music, pt.1

I can't do that dance.
We can throw ourselves
with abandon, like wild,
tearing gale forces caught
up in trees, roofs and open
windows - that I can do. We
can stand: impassive and self-
sufficient, or some good, strong
approximate of it. We know what and
all we can do: we've done it. I can't
dance around it with you.

"I Am Automatus"

I Am Automatus: the
Doer of Things. My
latest Accomplishment
is an Act. I can't
really get more
specific than that.
I'm on to the next,
as a matter of Fact
I'm Automatus. The
Getter of Done: my
sole slow revolving
thought is this one:
I Do. And I Will. and
I won't stop for none.
My life is a vow, to
the end of this: Now,

(Gotta run.)


Monday, April 02, 2012

a business model

I will pile up work of surpassing excellence,
in permanent and public form

until the world takes notice, and take no notice of it.
For preference, let's hope the world sleeps on it 'til I'm dead,

so I can skip all the interviews.

A hand grenade, with a pin pre-pulled
but a timer indeterminate
I'm ready to rule, upon the kingdom come
I'll be gone
who wants some?

Pay my heirs, bitches heirs
and my one begotten son

who ain't come yet, but I will be storing up all
I'm in no hurry and my one begotten daughter can call

any time she wants to ask me for an advance cut
but the rest of all you all can all

kiss my butt.

"We Get High"

breathe in
all the way, deep
and let it out again
greedy lungs
greedy blood
greedy brain
get saturate:
get all you can take
get oxygen
get burn
combust your cells
from inside in
the rush hits us, and then we get high
we get high
we get high
we get high
oh
we get high
we get high
we get high
we get high, oh
oh

give in
all the way
find a runner's pace
stride for stride
rhythms matched
still we push, and play
- a sudden sprint
I open a gap,
and then
you close right in
on me
then we switch leads
now I am behind,
and we sweat,
and we breathe,
and then

we get high
we get high
we get high
we get high
oh
we get high
we get high
we get high
we get high, oh
oh

everyone's brain's got receptors for pleasures
and pains,
and for stimuli: so do you
so have I, but
we don't have all exact same arrays
so, this is the bliss
that can hit
when you find
the right fix
the exact
overlap
of what plays

in the mix of two minds in the grip of one hold
tight on bodies and souls, it's an overlap more
than two ones, it's one whole
and an exercise can
get you high as high gets
grip you tight as a vice
like a man
takes a wife
sweet as sin
hot as light

addiction kicks
the fix is in, and then

we get high
we get high
we get high
we get high
oh
we get high
we get high
we get high
we get high, oh
oh

pull it in,
all the way
and let it out again
we're breaking through
like floating on air
we have earned our pains
- and pleasures, too
we're pushing right through, between
as one we lean
we stretch and extend
we burn through the burn
on a wave
that won't end, and then

we get high

Sunday, April 01, 2012

keep going anyway

the path at your feet
has grown harder and steeper each week
since the days when you couldn't believe
your luck

- you know? turns out you were right. Your luck
was lying, between its teeth
everyday. So was she.

oh fuck

I guess you'd have done better yet
to side with your better judgment against
all appearances, but at least you've been blessed
with the wisdom to see

where it is that you're going:
wrong.

but you keep

going.
anyway.
anyway.
anyway.
anyway you can, you keep
going
anyway.
anyway.
anyway,
keep

any way you can

the intriguer

The Intriguer moves among us still.
Corrupts last chance to second luck,
and takes small moments, preordained,
from random fate to "What the fuck -
did that mean what I think it meant?"
Who was this masked mysterious guest?
Who moved among us, quite untouched
and left the moment reeling in

its meaning less changed
than suddenly strange.

This stranger moves in moments meant
for little less than consequence,
and nothing more.

With what intent?

Some small thing moved
or disappeared. And was it done
deliberately? We'll never know
we can't quite see

just as we feared
we've been intrigued

it wasn't me