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.

but aren't they all random?

Friday, December 30, 2016

chance conversations

Between us, we leave a bullet-riddled breeze
we shoot through with holes and edgewise words,
and afterthoughts in tangents wrought
like filigrees
enlaced upon
the surface of a cake we bought,
a cake we can neither have
nor eat.
One can't have cake in metaphors.
But let us eat a thought, instead. Here,
you try mine
- I want yours.

"Crush On Everyone"

You've been floating on a prayer, on a
wing and a swear word
You're an angel on a greeting card,
hiding some wisecrack inside
And everyone you meet is smitten instantly -
who could hang the blame on you for
liking what you see?

You've got a crush on everyone
You've got a crush on everyone
You've got a crush on everyone
but you're only in love with you

Everytime you turn around, you're
surrounded by onlookers
I admire at a distance, as they
jockey for positions, baby
They eat your every gesture,
super-sweet bon bon
You can't help but let your self
go on and on and on and on

You've got a crush on everyone
You've got a crush on everyone
You've got a crush on everyone
but you're only in love with you

Every one is so convinced that they
must be your soul mate, and
you sincerely really think that there's
only one person for you
- Well I bet that you've met that person
every morning
smiling through the tooth paste making
goo goo eyes right back at you

You've got a crush on everyone
You've got a crush on everyone
You've got a crush on everyone
but you're only in love with you

Monday, December 26, 2016

Against you

Against you,
I can not prevail.
Against myself,
at least I have
a fighting chance.
Can we team up?
against myself
I'll help you make
the battle plans

Friday, December 23, 2016

more pictures of you

I find myself wishing there were more pictures
of you
from when we were together, but
I guess we were busy - which
is good? Isn't it? Or
we expected there would be time
later, maybe. It didn't
seem urgent. Live life, right?
That's what it's for, and
is not as important. Now,
though, I kind of wish I had more proof
that we were not wasting our time.


You bring peace to me, in person
or voice or memory. You know the right parts
of all I know, and leave me
with endlessness to go.

Saturday, December 17, 2016

"So You"

A whole two times in a row,
I have somehow managed to put you in words,
so to speak, and adequately (or did the word
occur?? you said it, not me!). So now
I'm like a gleeful little shit at the science fair,
so pleased
at the ribbon for his clichéd
papier mâché volcano! No,

it could be the best feeling in the world
at the moment, to try pretty hard
to put something
that means something, into words

- to try and succeed! by the way
- about someone you think is anyway

And you
you said:
"That is so me"
, meaning you.
Of course,
when you're not sure

and you're not confident, but
you feel a strong feeling towards
the meaning you're trying to get to, or get
across - and then they tell you!

"Nailed it!"

Damn that was courageous! Right? And
From now on,
encouraged thus,
the risk will be run
of me taking more
and greater, unwarranted,
increasingly reckless risks
and flights, or anyway, leaps
of attempted description of you. Which

is not easy to do, even without the handicap
of this gigantic vanity with which
you've saddled me. Until finally,
inevitably, at some point you'll be "like
Um, dude

You keep getting further and further off
on these. Come back to earth man, ground
control to asshole:

Return to base,


Friday, December 16, 2016

a few clowns short of a nightmare

it was one of those naked
presentation dreams
you sometimes get
at work, or school but this time
in clownface. Butt naked otherwise,
and let me tell you nobody
noticed or commented. I find it

kind of insulting
how weak in impact my nightmares
always are

am I so jaded by
daytime life? Tsunami rides
in, I stare it down then bodysurf it
to 14th street. Abducted by aliens?
It was all a dream! In the dream,
I mean. It was all a dream in
the dream.

That's absurd. And when a half-decent,
legit dangerous, potentially panic
-inducing scenario starts, before you know
it morphs into a movie, or a tv show

and all I am is watching.

When I wake up, there's no sense
of relief, or reprieve from
pains. Just garish
pillowcase makeup stains

a few clowns short of a nightmare (original draft)

sorry. That's all I got.

The concept's too freaky to proceed with

Some "poem"

"some snowflake"

Some snowflake you are

ten stories wide and gigantically

descending to crush this gingerbread city

englobed in glass, special

and unique, like the end of every world

always is. In some higher dimension,

the lovely cataclysm you bring

will be stocked, shelved and sold,

a commemorative paperweight

in a tchotchke shoppe. They will lift

and shake it up, but reenactment

can't cancel the event. You drift,

special and unique, uniquely,

simply every single one of you

different, crashing down, crushing

delightfully, implacably you,

as usual.