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.

but aren't they all random?

Friday, August 16, 2013

"Flirting," to me,

"Flirting," to me,
carries no connotation
of not meaning it.

I flirt with death,
for instance,
and it's clear to me that fucker wants it.
Wants me.

At some point.

Am I just a tease?

Fuck no, I'm going to put out,
and we both know it. Death's
from the old school
where consensuality's concerned.

Which is a shame. Because I'm from the new school.

No means no, death,
fuck off

I've changed my mind

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