We searched through the desert

for a welcoming sign

 

But the truth was a grave marker

—our fate so inclined

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

 

Can talking about things,

ever make them real

 

To describe and define,

what we then try to feel

 

A mirage of old theories,

their masks on display

 

Do ideas have substance

—beyond what we say

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

Outside the backdrop of the given world,

the emptiness fled

And deep in the recesses of what’s never to be,

contradiction fed

Far beyond meaning and stated intent,

all reasons turned to dust

With nothing to prove and less to embrace

—the laugh at last on us

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

Old memory written,

new words to a song

 

Forgotten, remembered

—sung once and then gone

 

(Dreamsleep: December, 2019)

Intellectual hygiene…

the Poet declines

 

That dull antiseptic,

that deadens your mind

 

Once washed and then scrubbed,

the truth a charade

 

Academic consensus

—the Muse in her grave

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

An agreed upon history…

fables abound

 

To share in the memories,

what’s lost and then found

 

Our story rechristened,

linked moments in time

 

New legacy written

—in couplets of rhyme

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

Hiding behind his writing,

he went from day to day

 

Whispering memories from yesterday’s past,

the truth in disarray

 

Buried in moments now borrowed,

the clock running shorter than long

 

All words out on pawn, tomorrow in hock

—his message forgotten and gone

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)