What is a poem,

be it long or then short

When in service to others,

to agree and consort

And be it objective,

to run with the pack

Its identity loosened,

its rope to go slack

What is a poem,

when written to please

Each word second-guessed,

each phrase to appease

The critic, the pundit,

the dilettante sure

Your blood for their letting

—your words but a score

(The New Room: March, 2021)

To become what you look at,

to say what you know

Your eyes to retract,

your wisdom to grow

To live by a credo,

to die only once

Your soul to take flight

—your spirit to hunt

(Martha Browns Woods: March, 2021)

If

number

is the ruler

of form

Then

beauty

the true empress

of love

(To Pythagoras: March, 2021)

From the Kiowa to the Cree,

 people sing and dance

Prairies ringed with fire

—a ghost returns at last

(Pine Ridge South Dakota: September, 1994)

With lightest hand

and heavy heart

My pen runs dry,

bereft and stark

That never given,

I’m doomed to steal

The grandest theft

—my words conceal

(Stealing From Laura (Muse): March, 2021)

She made me more real than I could stand,

but choice was not an option

And reaching in deep she pulled tomorrow

out of yesterday’s regret

Leaving me to find a home for all the

wasted memories and time

Loving me only just enough

—to begin to start again

(Houserville Pennsylvania: December, 1971)

Wanting you,

knowing I couldn’t have you

I called the devil my friend

as he surrendered the key

The lock to your heart reopening,

the hourglass turned over

In the flames of December

—running back to you

(Houserville Pennsylvania: December, 1971)

I don’t limit who reads my verse,

only who I answer

Each word thick-skinned and armor-clad

all questions zero-sum

(To Nelson Riddle & Frank Sinatra: March, 2021)

I had you

once

before I lost you in a dream

A dream that I woke up

from

where you stayed beyond my grasp

Visiting me each

night

in the bartered hours of my sleep

Holding me beyond

hope

ever cradling my fear

Lending me back to

myself

inside this borrowed joy

Until the dawn reminds

again

—I had you once

(To Laura Nyro: March, 2021)

California loses its finest citizens

…acceptable losses

America loses its drug riddled youth

…acceptable losses

Texas loses its southern border

…acceptable losses

Our manufacturing base auctioned away

…acceptable losses

Native Peoples crying on reservations

…acceptable losses

The electorate abandoned and sold down the drain

…acceptable losses

Our finest and bravest fighting forever wars

…acceptable losses

Our schools now a swamp and our teachers inept

…acceptable losses

We talk to our smart phones and lose all connection

…acceptable losses

Our churches and synagogues bombed and attacked

…acceptable losses

Our freedom of speech now woke and maligned

…acceptable losses

The media profiting from rancor and division

…acceptable losses

Our allies mistrusting and looking askance

…acceptable losses

The dollar a symbol of greed and decay

…acceptable losses

The White House held captive by liars and fools

…acceptable losses

Our forefathers rage in eternities sleep

…acceptable losses

All shared common values rejected forever

…acceptable losses

A world without freedom leading the way

…our future in ashes

(The New Room: March, 2021)