If I described
a rose’s bloom
or the beauty
of the rising sun
Then I’d be writing
another’s verse
conscripted words
respun
If I then waxed
of love on high
and hearts that
break anew
Then falsely would
I pen the lines
a plagiarist
— in view
(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)
The wickedness
of man
trumps the goodness
of God
What’s harder for
a child
to see their mother dead
or their father sob
The greater number
of a man’s errors
come disguised
as perfection
As excuses
sets sail
on the sea
— of perdition
(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)
Watching a hurricane
won’t get you wet
And reading more Freud
won’t help you forget
Mouthing the words
cannot guarantee sound
Laden with fear
hiding guilt by the pound
Stated intent
broken pathways to roam
Paring good wishes
right down to the bone
New skin in the game
and wounds that won’t heal
Eluding the cries
— and truth unrevealed
(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)
The edge of eternity
often obscured
lost in plain sight
just beyond
Until cutting through
a moments grief
immortalized
in song
Leonard Cohen and
Bob Dylan as one
freeing new spaces
inside
Where lost in
the maelstrom
alone disavowed
— the best of ourselves tries to hide
(The New Room: January, 2026)
You wouldn’t hire
a fox
to reinvent
the henhouse
And you wouldn’t
task a mute
to shout
“The Enemy’s Approaching”
You wouldn’t
date a woman
another’s love
she carries
And you wouldn’t
give a hand
to a foe who’s pledged
to bite it
You wouldn’t
show your cards
to a double-dealing
cheater
And you wouldn’t
trust a bard
who can’t read his words
with feeling
You wouldn’t
take the time
from an hourglass
that’s empty
And you wouldn’t
stop to ponder
on an answer
— without question
(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)
A twelve-month extension
left under the tree
The Muse playing Santa
— her words my reprieve
(Deamsleep: December, 2025)
A conduit
of passion
Where life
can be recharged
Exists inside
our psyches
To free
the darkness charred
Isotopes
of fusion
Where fact
and fiction wed
To redefine
our essence
And make
— tomorrow’s bed
(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)
There is nothing so acrid
— as the smell of time
(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)
Arriving
like twilight
the Muse
spreads her veil
Where voices
once silent
crawl out
to assail
The enemy
distant
the battle cry
near
As darkness
emboldens
what daylight
— enfears
(The New Room: January, 2026)
On how many levels
does true genius spawn
Is its gift comprehensive
or surgically drawn
Does it drive our emotions
like intellect swayed
Or stay pointed and focused
in only one way
Is it able to migrate
to conscience from mind
Can it cross a new border
or hill to be climbed
Will it outgrow the limits
indentured by class
Enhancing our psyches
— all borders surpassed
(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)
An Anthology Of Perception 