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)
Seeing truth…
in the blindness of others
(Dreamsleep: December, 2019)
A stitching of parables,
a weaving of psalms
Whether ancient or modern,
the truth plaited long
The story we tell,
with one pattern beset
A patchwork of tailors
—whose needles profess
(Villanova Pennsylvania, December, 2019)
Hear what your eyes cannot see,
smell what your hands cannot touch
Taste what each moment unfolds
—love in the simplest of things
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)
Money’s most important purchase
—time
(Dreamsleep: December, 2019)
Punch me in the mouth…
don’t stab me in the back
The truth in play most clearly
—when honestly attacked
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)
The borders of space
—where limits go to die
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)
It’s not about Poetics,
but the meaning it involves
The meter, rhyme, and format,
just tools to then resolve
Great thoughts need little structure,
their light too bright to dim
By any academic mode
—that chokes the voice within
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)
Caught up in the great “I don’t know,”
my mind refused to learn
Moving into the “Maybe so,”
my thoughts began to turn
Morphing through each “To and fro,”
the options marked my days
Spreading what was “Mine to sow”
—epiphany relayed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)
If space is not eternal,
what happens when space ends
Can we define what emptiness is,
its borders to portend
Is there a hidden permutation,
for what dimension has in store
With the end of all beginning
—infused with something more
(Villanova University: December, 2019)
An Anthology Of Perception 