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?

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

my Mind for Science

Yes! My mind is for science - my body
is for science as well. I will not leave it
to science,

I can't wait

that long
I am

hot all over, for science. IMPLEMENT
ME, science WORK
your immutable laws
upon my willing, physical form
- I will:
submit without plaint,
pliant to the pulls of your forces
and reactions that ignite

around and within me.

SCIENCE!! In you I have found a master, a
mistress, a servant, a
SLAVE - I am your Igor and your tyrant alike! Your
helpless experimental subject, as well
as the defiant lab-coated madman
throwing switches, playing
God with an inner glee
belied by His cold,
sneering exterior.

Science!!

Science is

what it's all about.

You do the GMO me and you turn yourself
around, into a potato, an ear
growing on each side of the eyes - I look

at most things from a cold,
detached perspective:

surprised.
My stern eye

collecting data, my
deeply-involved mind
probing, sliding the variables
*snik!*
into place, my

oh, my. No,

there are no mysteries,
only puzzles. And the puzzle with no solution?
Is a Law.

Every true problem has its solution,
and every solution,
its precipitate as well - I want
to take my wet,
jiggly brain

out of the top of my skull,
and weigh it. Measure it
gently with calipers, clip
electrodes to sensitive nodes, run
a jolt through it! Through the lobes
and ganglia and then - jam the whole thing back in! Still
steaming - snap and clamp the braincase
back shut! Seal the scalp and skin, and pick at,
pull away the pink, shiny, cut-like seams -

Coming away from my forehead, wrinkling
and shrinking as they pull loose
like glistening Saran wrap, sticky -

Leaving gleaming smooth soft skin, soft pink
- no scars.

I dispose of the weird evidence.

No experiment has ever occurred.

Perfect.

"Fully Impaired"


Pardon my drunken eloquence
When things I say are too much meant,
and you don't know how much to spend
in trust

Yeah, that's me, I'm prone to blackest fits
of flirtatious
depression

but you taught my bad mood a lesson
with just a flip of
your expression, damn

I want you
Damn I want you
Damn, I want you now. Damn,
I want you. Damn, I want you
Damn - I want you now

Sway the way we do, and we will
always catch ourselves in time
swing a little farther out,
and barely just pull back in line

Just across the line a little -
barely get your tiptoes wet!

ooo that water's much too hot
but once we're in it's fine I bet

damn,
I want you
Damn I want you
Damn, I want you now. Damn,
I want you. Damn, I want you
Damn - I want you now

Pardon my drunken eloquence
when things I say make too much sense
and you've got all this consequence
in mind

But next to this

a jolt of truth

consequences look like lies

consequences, anymore
- I can't see them past your eyes

damn

I want you.

Friday, June 06, 2014

days of cold cereal

Here's something
I've gotten better at over the years:
pouring milk into a bowl of cold cereal.

And it's odd, because
in the old days of old, I ate cereal
and my skills never improved at all!

now that it's a rare treat, though
- step back!
Recognize the flaws
in my technique - correct them.

The world 'cereal'

derives from Ceres, a greco-roman
goddess-type figure
who if I remember my mythology
right, was known for being raped
by the god of dead people and,
one assumes,
also for eating a lot of cereal.
But there's a nutritious truth
behind these myths! Which is:

Cereal.

we had Corn Flakes, Grape Nuts,
all manner of Chex, Life,
Buck-Wheats (wherefore art thou,
Buck-Wheats?), Shredded Wheat, Mini
-Wheats, Wheaties, Branny
-O's, Cheerios, Raisin
Bran, and Cracklin' Oat
Fucks.

I'm barely scratching the surface - you name it.
Except: no cereal with sugar
as the first ingredient.

(No Cap'n Crunch, Boo-Berry, Lucky
Charms) for those we had to hold out
'til Grandpop and Grandmom's
- which made those visits special!

We went through so much sugar, I swear
I would fill my bowl heaped
to a height and a half
corn-flakes balanced like a stack of Jenga, then
pour the milk on down and through (flashing
and splashing at all angles!), the milk level up
to the brim of the bowl. When I finished the cereal,
there would still be a half-bowl of milk
and I'd say, "Damn. Well, I guess
I need to pour some more cereal in

And four, five more heaping tablespoons full
of sugar.

I still love cereal,
but I never put sugar on anything now.

Must be some difference
in a child's metabolism. Sugar,
at that growing age,
is just what the body needs
- and that message is sent to the brain
and received! And acted upon. Rightly
so.

The word 'sugar'
derives from Sugos, the ancient
Mesopotamian god of youthful exuberance,
and hyperactivity.

her higher power

A disembodied eye
sits in the sky
but not enormous -
only life-size, only
just

like one of ours.
Far up, and out
of sight
- and grayish-brown,
not even blue! Not idealized,
just someone's humble, human

eye

looks down
from miles above

and can't see you.

"More perils of the workplace,"

Sometimes a memo

just reminds us of what everything already is.

Occasionally,

there's some new procedure in there.

Tucked away. You have to read

closely,
before the message self-destructs.

adjustment

Die like you were never alive. Live
like you were never born. Breach
like you were never so much as conceived.
Take punishment like you were never once warned.

"getting better"


death's getting better,
and better, and best
make my plans now
for futures
that dwindle in size,
as the picture sinks inward, the black
edges round
like an altitude sickness
before you crash down