Reckless

when imbibing

He lost his right

to drive

 

For those infractions

time proscribed

A Poets

D.U.I.

 

He far

exceeded limits

His influences

blamed

 

Now doomed to ride

as passenger

In literary

— shame

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)

 

 

 

The fine line

between

charisma

and narcissism

Defines the border

separating

 magic

— from farce

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)

I stare in the mirror

the devil stares back

Laughing and sneering

his taunting attack

 

“I bought you, I own you

now run, try to hide

Your soul has been mortgaged

your spirit is mine”

 

I run to the yard

and come back with a brick

At the silvery glass

I throw and then kick

 

The pieces all splatter

and smash on the floor

As a roar can be heard

from the rafters and more

 

A fire has started

the attic ablaze

With bats in the air

the demon is raised

 

I reach in my shirt

for the cross round my neck

For my Grandmother’s promise

to preserve and protect …

 

And the heat that it carries

burns bright in my hand

As I point it aloft

at the horns and demand …

 

“A Rosary upon you

return to your cave

My faith is restored

— my sins he forgave”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Old men

see death

more clearly

 

When young

all life

is blind

 

The magic in

that voice

who calls

 

In

salutary

rhyme

 

Old men

embrace

the knocking

 

That

signifies

the end

 

Their souls

intact

for travel

 

Their

legacy

befriends

 

That road

beyond

tomorrow

Where

posterity

inures

 

Awaits

the man

who braved the storm

 

And leaves

this world

— secure

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)

Must God stay beyond

understanding

His prophecy to conscript

and confuse

 

Are the Trinity and

Resurrection

Both miracles or only

a ruse

 

Building temples to

edification

Storing Icons that judge

and decry

 

Is the Bible fictitious

or sacred

Is Redemption the truth

— or a lie

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

A stitch past nine on borrowed time

memories rushing back

The Wolf is feasting in Grandma’s bed

Red Riding Hood a snack

 

A Cow gets ready to jump again

but the moon drops from the sky

Humpty Dumpty on the floor

Tweedle-dum starts to cry

 

A candle burns for Jack’s last jump

his waiting funeral pyre

The Stepmother screams, Cinderella hides

her daughter’s dress on fire

 

Little Jack Horner abandons his corner

curds harden and whey runs aground

With Mother Goose fleeing — the Grimm Brothers die

not a child in sight to be found

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Joy

takes on

a dire effect

Its absence

filled

with sorrow

 

Its loss

inflicts

a greater harm

Than grief

can buy

or borrow

 

Joy

when brief

endows with fear

A pain

to mark

its passing

 

To dread

the coming

of the night

With

sadness mourned

— and lasting

 

(The New Room: October, 2025)

Life On The Road

 

Expect nothing

— appreciate everything

 

(Lenexa Kansas: November, 1969)

 

Let It Go

 

Sometimes

the best way

to keep a feeling

— is by letting it go

 

(Lenexa Kansas: November, 1969)

 

 

Ballast

 

What I no longer

need or want

— my greatest strength of all

 

(Lenexa Kansas: November, 1969)

 

 

 

 

 

I was somewhere deep in Kansas

on a Triumph 69’

When your song came on the jukebox

and hit me from behind

I was headed for a bad place

and cared for nothing much

When I heard the song ‘Melissa,’

my heart and soul were struck

Entranced, your lyrics captured me

like nothing had before

When you sang about ‘The Gypsy’

I headed for the door

But something made me turn around

and grab another dime

Ten more times in that diner’s booth

still lost within your rhyme

Now back inside the bus station

and sleeping on the bench

I scratch your words into the wood

last dollar gone and spent

My bike outside against the wall

the kickstand was long gone

And out of gas, my hopes were dashed …

that unrelenting song

Waking up at ten unsettled

across the street I pushed

The sign said TRIUMPH-BSA

the owner Mister Cush

He asked, “What’s with your motor”

I said “Nothing — out of gas

“But worse I’m out of money

can I sell the bike for cash?

“Would you please just buy my Triumph

I know it’s old and worn

“But it got me here through seven states,

runs great both cold and warm”

“I’ll pay three hundred on the spot

on that can we agree?”

We walked back up inside his shop

three bills he handed me

I thought about a bus ride home

my thumb looked more in line

Facing East on old route 50

my heart in deep decline

The first big rig that came along

was bound for York Pa.

The driver said “If you like dogs

I’ll take you on your way”

In York I caught a fast ride out

two ‘dodgers’ going North

And got back home with hat in hand

your song to guide me forth

Two years then passed, I met my wife

four more and our first child

We named her ‘Sweet Melissa’

her dad back from the wilds

Now forty years have come and gone

my beard and hair both gray

I owe you Gregg, and always will

your song, her name — that day

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

For Gregg Allman

I sent this to Gregg in May, 2017.  It’s on his website.

We spent two days together in Richmond Virginia in

a blizzard in 1982.

 

The valley moon

a distant loon

trumpet my desire

 

Those wolfen tracks

that lead me back

beyond my heart’s aspire

And waiting there

across the lake

reflecting Heaven’s call

 

A Lady stands

with open arms

— above the water’s fall

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)