Is life about how many

  or then about how much


Is the truth in computation

  or in what those numbers touch


Is the measurement empiric

  with a final answer shown


Is salvation in the lyrics

  with the word count still unknown


Is there faith inside the mystery

  that mere reason can’t abide


Is there something deep inside you

  that excuses cannot hide


Is there a wind that blows indulgent

  carrying an echo from before


With a voice that speaks the loudest

  the one you listen to—reborn


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)


A Warrior’s Chant

Wrapping letters around

  the conflict


A war played out

  with words


The fury of shouted



Slaying enemies still



Shooting vision

  into the onslaught


Attacking silence

  as legion’s advance


Loading insight into

  the canons


Killing emptiness

  —with a warrior’s chant


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Divinity’s Hymn

I sold my soul

  for new meter and rhyme


Trading salvation

  for a thing greater still


The joyful embrace

  of one hell damning phrase


Living immortal, perpetual



I sold my soul

  as the Devil laughed


Knowing not, my final words

  were for him


Exposing his lie

  and his legions of hate


With my last breath

  —Divinity’s hymn


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

No More Could I Seek

When my words are read

  by the common man


No higher praise could

  any writer stand


Awards and cheer

  from the seasoned elite


Pale when measured

  against those ‘in the street’


As I’m embraced

  by those ‘salt of the earth’


My spirit lifts,

  and I’m home from my search


Steadfast and loyal,

  their voices repeat


No more could I ask

  —no more could I seek


(Villanova Pennsylvania: Watching the New Hampshire Primary- February 9th, 2016)


You can wish and hope for a hundred years,

  or play the game a day at a time


You can focus on what’s at the end of the road,

  or squeeze three nickels from your very last dime


You can pray for still more than some others might have,

  or be thankful for what lies at your feet


You can love in the face of jealousy and hate

   —or start downward on hell’s one-way street


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)


Fate’s Retort

To live within the moment,

  and write as love does now befriend


      “Light shining brightest as

         hours grow short”


A beginning reunites with

  the journey’s end


       “Memory imploding

          on fate’s retort”


A window reopens,

  my heart beats faster still


      “Epiphany’s march

         neither to nor from”


To be saved in a final breath,

    one last line to say I will


      “The past and future

          left exposed—undone”


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)