Checks You Can’t Cash

Do you live your whole life

  in a half empty space


Do you swear up and down

  your excuses defaced


Do you sing in a choir

  where the music has died


Do you brand all as liars

  as your tongue remains tied


Do you rob from the master

  just to steal from the slave


Do you hide in a mansion

  built on top of your grave


Do you look for direction

  trails barren and thin


Does your soul beg correction

  torn away from within


Do you begin every sentence

  tracing back to the past


Do you waste precious moments

   —writing checks you can’t cash


(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2016)


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