but aren't they all random?



A Pocketful of Poesy was a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog* up until the great derail of 2013. The impossibly-high standard of quality proved impractical to keep up, without a book deal. But don't take my word for it: click RANDOM and judge for yourself! And feel free to offer your critique.
*based on poem rate for calendar years 2009-2012. Also, kidding about the book deal.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

No casual reader

Call it what you want,
but that's what you're doing.
Call it what you want as you pull
back the covers, open it up,
start teasing, flipping each
of the leaves with spit-moistened finger,
rolling it all the way back, baring
each new page, deeper and deeper
in, running your eyes
over every jot and tittle
and next thing you know you're
diving into it, cleaving into,
unto, lost in the story, you crack
that book's SPINE but still
not satisfied! Voraciously
devouring every page
after page after PAGE, until GASP
Ahh - crisis, resolution, denouement,

And you leave
that book behind,
crumpled, probably, creased,
and dog-eared I shouldn't be surprised, stained
too I bet, you slob! - as you walk away,
don't lie

and say you didn't know how
it would end.

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Pathetic

Pathetic
has never been bad in my eyes.
The heart just goes out,
without asking one's leave.
I will take all your pity,
and still I will rise, and have mercy
on you - but no charity! Please,

Let us save that for those unashamed
of their needs,

and who don't care
who sees.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

sideways rain today

sideways rain, today
the weather is always
here in my heart, it
is today, again. And again,
and over everyone I ever knew,
it slows to a stop
for you. And you,
alone like me,
stretch your neck,
to see
out the window
what kind of day

will it be

Love yourself

Love yourself because.

Love yourself despite.

Love yourself besides.

Love yourself to.

Love yourself over.

Love yourself around.

Love yourself through.

Tuesday, March 08, 2016

Be Alone With You

I want to take your hair up into my hands
and breathe through it
I want to look into that look in your eyes
so long that I
can see what you see through it,
I want to make that tied-for-first move
I can see
you're right there too with me,
and you,
and her and him
and all these other dudes

I wanna be alone with you
I wanna be alone with you

I want to take your hand, pull you
right out of this place
And nobody's gonna notice or worry
or wonder why
I want to take this moment in hand -
it's more urgent by far than what was planned
and we can always come back later, to say goodbye
but

I wanna be alone with you
I wanna be alone with you
I wanna be alone with you

I want to take your hair up into my hands
and breathe through it
I want to feel the shape of things to come
and maybe push them along,
I want to chase this thing we think we just found
all over each other until we pin it down,
and it would be kinda weird
to do all of that
with all of these people around

I wanna be alone with you

Monday, March 07, 2016

promises, promises

I will love you forever
when we get there
together, if you still
care for me
like you always will,
like you say today
that you always

will.
Your decision
is made, and I love you
still. You will love
me always, you have said

today.
I will love
you today, and unless
and until we come through
to a day called forever.

You'll say:
"I have loved you always,"
so settled and smug,
and I'll love you
still.

increase in obscurity Pt.2

Wait a second, of course there's another
popular use of obscurity: The making of
references, obscure ones, hoping someone
will recognize and enjoy the reference.
A sort of peek-a-boo game between
people of similar learnings, or leanings,
or experiences, that adds significances and cachets
to the trivia we've accumulated along the way, and which
would be otherwise meaningless. A valid, playful use

of obscurity, sort of. I'm not saying the other use
is invalid - the deliberate obfuscation. I'm sure if
that's what you're after - it all comes down
to what you're trying to accomplish
as an artist. For some people, meaning itself
is a game, and the work may be deliberately,
semantically empty - or as empty
as the artist can make it. Suppose an artist
delights in seeing the various meanings drawn
and connections made from the work, none of which
were intended while making the work? Surprise! Is this
in some way bad or foul play? Heck no.

It's just one of those weird deals

where when you find out that it's their game, too.
The reader gets to play, and you're ultimately like,
"Huh? WHY? Well okay. I guess if that's what turns
your motor over." But then

you tend to look at the next piece they do
as some type of more or less bull shit. So
they may be wise not to let on, that they write
with "open meaning" (i.e. none) (or next to it) but
to me it's as full-on legit as any other purpose
to which you could put to art,

i.e. none

increase in obscurity

I agree: an increase in obscurity
is not value added. I mean, I guess
some people like to be obscure, but
it's not because obscurity's valued
or valuable, it's because they wish
to be mistaken for profound.

To those people I say: ask not for whom, but why
the bells bells bells bells bells bells bells?

THE CLANKING AND THE BONGING OF THE BELLS!!!

Hm. I could have done better, there. But instead,
To those people I say:

why look for winter where the flower blooms? No wait,

how about to those people I say:

all clouds are white, to the sun.

AWESOME! That's what I'll say

next time I run into one of those people.

Friday, March 04, 2016

My belly just wants to be happy.

My heart wants love. Also,
to pump blood. My to-put-it
-delicately wants
to make you pregnant. Except
if you're a guy. It doesn't
know why,

it just does. My brain

wants to think interesting
things. This is easy, given
where it sets the bar. My right
hand wants to pick. My left hand
wants to fret, and my lips
want to kiss.

Again,
except
if you're a guy. Not sure why
my lips even care, on that score.

Weird. My fingers
want what my hands want,
and also to drum. Also,
to feel surfaces,
and their textures. And
to do things, and
to undo them.

My nose,
sinuses, bronchi and lungs
just want to BREATHE IT IN
And the nose,
to smell, as well.
Depending.

My mouth wants
to pronounce, but not
upon you, necessarily. Also,
(it's true)
to eat delicious food.

My throat wants to guzzle
beer, chug ICE COLD WATER, well,
technically not quite that cold.

My ears want to rock, and my eyes want
nothing better
than to gaze lovingly into

THEMSELVES.

And yours?