I'm not going to lie to you,
the sky is made out of birds
as far as I can tell. And I suspect
nobody but me suspects that hell
is in fact, one big bottomless
chlorinated swimming pool. It
isn't even heated. Your fingers
get so wrinkly
Let's not accept the myths
we've been given. It's not
enough to be skeptical, let's
make our own or something. Why,
there is enough material! Reams
and reams, we could easily fashion
models to predict the universe
into any shape it seems.
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. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.