yeah I'm talking to you
you, the one writing this
what do you mean, could you
possibly be more explanatory
of things less in need
of clarity? Such as
every other train of thought through
the prairie desert wasteland
your rusted rails rattle and hem
and haw over, as cars like carts
before the horse drag the engine roaring
backwards screeching in, only slightly on-course
to arrive, on time, nowhere.
Nowhere near. Nowhere
near the station,
at least There's a switch
that could have been pulled
some ways back, that could
have changed all that. But
seems like a dirty trick
to pull a switch.
Somehow, when you've always been running it
the same way. honestly - cracked,
vibrating rails, nails (spikes,
really shimmying towards loose, and ties
- not required, apparently,
for grand and expansive stretches of track.
You rank, arrant
Might you please,
take a look!
at your self, for example.
Fix that shit.
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.