counterpoint to spacetime, extending
in every dimension through memory
and imagination towards infinite, possible
futures. No need
to rush, there's only us
and a roaring void, bearing down
from everywhere at once. At
the moment time's nicked
by the scythe's tip, I know
you'll only yank my precious neck
out of the way of the sweeping blade,
and probably hard enough to break it
- so go easy, babe. Nobody said
we had to make the impossible look
fun. Just so's
it runs on time,
the game's ruled fair,
you can hand me the baton,
shoot me with the starting gun
and catch me later, 'round the other side
of the looped track we're so endlessly
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.