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?

Monday, August 07, 2023

dock stench

No amount of tidal 
wax and wane can even
make a dent. Can ever
wash away that smell 
- a stench of tarred 
pilings, and what 
you imagine is fish, 
even if the boats 
are all pleasure 
vessels; even if 
there are no boats. 

There's this deep wet 
wood, wet dog smell
that just exudes
itself. You can't get
it out of your hair 
and clothes 

It brings back 
memories so fast
you need to get
the hell out 
of there. 

Even now, some 
people reading this 
are saying "Oh, yeah." 

Go down to the docks 
if you want to know. 
Come at high tide, 
it's an undernote 
to everything, but 

for the real thick 
experience, come 
at low

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