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?

Saturday, October 09, 2021

Cog

My mind it seems has open doors, 
and policies, and gleaming swords,
devices of Rube Goldberg type, 
where slowly-rolling boulders fight 
by increment, inertial inch, momentum 
built by decade spans until they meet 
to clash between on one smooth point 
- becoming rough, by impact chance. 

I let it be. These things will set 
eventually in rounded circled 
rolling paths, the dust between 
has trickled fast: and in the patterns 
that emerge? I scry the shape 
of thought's white birds 
who spread in wings 
and poke by beaks

I get the point. In me, 
I think.  

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