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?

Wednesday, January 03, 2024

my thirty-fours

wasting 
away in huge food and 
diet exercise, I 

gotta believe no way. These 
are my thirty-sixes. NO 
NEED to run a check 
on that - what is the
POINT, otherwise of

having two identical
(-otherwise) pairs of beautiful soft 
faded cadet blue (almost gray, no 
, grey to your eyes) shorts? 
please
no, please no "waistline"
-centric vanity way
way this late in the 
way, phase, stage
game

no-game, if so. 

Not after a lifetime of 
eschew to the point 
such metrics are 
and have been 

always 

wholly alien 
to you! 
you 

gallant scoundrel 

1 comment:

dogimo said...

In this poem, see how the author raises self-critical body shame-based reverse-deprecation humblebrag from an art form to a point of coherency, specifically, "IN-"