A place though small enough to write,

still big enough to dream

My pen, a passport out of time,

with phrases to redeem

The North Wind calls, a purple sky,

on wings my ear enchants

And hears but one voice through the clouds

—to make the letters dance

(The New Room: February, 2021)

Does your writing dance above the words

or somewhere down below

Do voices borrowed and feelings loaned,

occlude your diction’s flow

Do phrases couple and stanzas mesh,

in new harmonic forms

Does music waltz proudly from page to page

—to score new lyrics born

(Walking With Colby: February, 2021)

Surrogate reality,

divorced from what’s real

The news on your cable,

and movies conceal

The brands that you purchase,

the labels you wear

Convince you of something,

the ‘Emperor’ shares

While consciously vacant,

unconsciously lost

The dew on the lilacs,

impermanent frost

Like quicksand it’s calling,

disguised as a beach

Your essence is falling,

and far out of reach

As peacocks left strutting,

unable to fly

Your time ever wasted

—and waving goodbye

(Bryn Mawr College: February, 2021)

An eighty-buck hairdo,

an eighty-year face

The two now in conflict,

all balance erased

With age as a symbol

to search and destroy

All vanity coddled,

to plunder and toy

Bejeweled and bedangled,

she limps from the chair

Her stylist left smirking,

paid well—more than fair

These ‘blue hairs’ a staple,

her ticket to fame

The stench of the hair dye,

the price of the game

The credit card processed,

cash tip in her hand

She escorts Miss Edna

to her handicapped van

In the mirror she wonders,

as she looks at herself

“Am I just a pariah

—stealing dignity’s wealth”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2021)

The question you didn’t have to ask…

the only answer you need

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)

Truth is a question,

all answers abstain

Its dream open ended

—wonderments gain

(The Book Of Prayers: February, 2021)

To what extent

is reality persuadable

Are the fence posts in concrete,

the commas unknown

Are the laws of existence

as such, redefinable

The axioms fluid

—truth more than is shown

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)

Has evolution

gotten bigger than God

 With Darwin the prophet,

a wink and a nod

Has almighty reason

rechristened itself

To worship false dogma

—in spite of what’s felt

(The New Room: February, 2021)  

In the beginning there were cold rocks with

painted animals that chose which way you’d run

toward or away from tomorrow’s undoing

in search of what the present can’t find

looking into the future with blind refusal

at the corner of time and space

taking back what forgiveness wouldn’t share

heating each rock until the images dance

—warming the night of a thousand dreams

—warming the night of a thousand dreams

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)

While hidden deep from nature’s wrath,

waiting in disguise

Below the ground a season born,

its birthright undenied

As winter trees now bare their souls,

whose limbs reach out in pain

Tomorrow the most promised wish

—till spring comes back again

(The New Room: February, 2021)