by Greg Baysans





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Pocketsworth*

   
Zomboid and mummoid... 

The anatomy of ribbed clouds 
and fast lightning 
lightening 
massive traps of sky 

A place to get 
my stolid rocks off 
and it is flesh 

Lit up like a Christmas tree 
promising presents, burning 
all night in a mass waste of 
energy, energies... 

home on tv 
a man preaches money or your 
choice of three too new to be 
too old to be good... 

saying goodbye 
night after miles walking home light 
is never right 

and waiting for 
Santa Claus in October air before 
the snow flies leaving evergreens 
lit up like Christmas trees promising 

somedaynight 
(I want a man 
to love as much as I do symphony) 



*a compendium of jottings from various pockets

http://members.tripod.com/~poetx/poels/pock.html