Direct evidence does weigh heavily with me.
I've never seen a chance
never had luck on my side
if I had, if I'd noticed
I would probably have tried
to rub or buff it out.
What is this shmutz?
What did I brush up against?
Will it come off? I never even
doubled down in Blackjack. Although,
if I ever got a seven and a ten,
I would split.
Blackjack's not my game.
One time, me
and the girl I was with, had to up
and switch seats in disgust (hers,
so that I wouldn't keep up my streak
fucking with her draws by means
of my non-conventional
system. Was it wisdom?
Or experience, that made her do that?
Very little of either
went into the decision, I assure you, I suspect
was not direct.
Just a guess, but
ever since that day
I'm a skeptic
like you wouldn't believe. I am not one
to settle for less
than a test, lest the proof
come in and pull some bull-shit
you could not reasonably be
or have expected
to expect. Suspect everything,
trust the impossible
once it has been
That's my sweet move
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.