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, April 16, 2021

comment reply to clarify

OK.
I hear what you're saying here, but 
only because I say it out loud as I 
read. Technically I hear what I'm 
saying. But I base what I say on 
what you typed, so let's allow we 
both have some say here - yours,
admittedly, entirely dependent 
on mine. Suppose I changed any
word I wanted along the way. Your 
say is void. 

Hold up. I didn't do it though. I 
read as I go with attention to fidelity,
and even a certain booming elocution
that adds deep musicality to the most
trite or 

let's admit 

discomposed prose. It almost 
doesn't matter how bad, I redeem it 
like a Shakespearean actor of toppest 
notch pulls a magic cape almost
across the language, making all that
jibber-jab gobblety-goop claptrap
seem instantly comprehensible!
Even memorable.  

All in the delivery! And it takes quite
an art all the way up to a science
preternatural, almost. 

Point is. 

I really do hear what you're saying. 
It's like you were in the fucking room, 
speaking with direct intent and admirable 
tension, passion, and half the world at stake 
or more, except way better (you're welcome)
than probably you could have pulled off. 

No shame in that. By the way, all of which 
is beside the point:

I hear what you're saying, here but it feels
like it wouldn't be worth hearing 
without the bravura delivery
someone gives it.

I'm not saying shut up, or refuting any point
or even disparaging one. Or anything, directly.
I'm just saying man.
That was so amazing
hearing your words 

like that.
And I wish you could have, but 
you know
it's not worth repeating really 

you know? Did that 
make sense? Anyway, thanks
for your patience and courtesy.
I welcome all apology or clarification,
but realistically? Come on. Aside from the vivid
impression generally, I already forgot what specific
errors, fouls, wrongs and gigantic foibles you ram
and pound into the text with each heaving, ponderous
hammer strike of your knobby, knotty fingers. I make
allowances for deformity of prose: probably, 

there's a reason why.
I bless it and just let it drift 
on the tide. So no need to make us both sorry 
and me feel bad for my sneer cringe of "what the
f" incomprehension in re: you talkin' about. 
Apologize, again: freely if you must, but 

you know? Maybe you better anyway. 

So I can hear what you're saying. 

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