“I will”

“I do”

“Till death do us part”

 

(Betrothed 3-5-1974 / Wed 9-22-1974 / In God’s Hands)

The greatest truths

should stay unnamed

to discover

for oneself

No footnotes

praising earlier thoughts …

the thirsty

to the well   

Virtue gifted

from times long past

in hidden moments

of bliss

Remaining virgin

as yet unloved

for each new mind

—to kiss

 

(Dreamsleep: September, 2023)

 

There’s nothing sylvan

about the Ivy League

Subversive in nature

all take and no give

In period camouflage

they feign to belong

Their hatchlings abhorrent

together they throng

 

Our country’s traditions

they chop on the block

What many have died for

their travesty mocks

And living entitled

they suck and they draw

Rewriting our history

—their lies become law

 

(The New Room: October, 2023)

There’s a hole in my heart

where dreams used to be

A pain that’s indwelling

all joy there bereaved

 

The emptiness deepens

 with each rocket that falls

One voice in the millions

—to answer the call

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2023)

Death …

when there’s no longer

something to believe in

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2023)

Faith …

the capacity

to believe

 

Belief …

the odyssey

of proof

 

Proof …

the embodiment

of reason

 

Reason …

the arbiter

of truth

 

(Beaupre: October, 2023)

 

Married  

to our differences

with hate

to document …

What long implied

today arrived

the last nail

—in the fence

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2023)

Were you invited

to the party

Do you paint

 or write or sing

Have the voices

come to visit

Did new feelings

lodge within

Were you courted

by seduction

Has your soul

become entranced

As you sit alone

and wonder

Will this be

—the final dance

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2023)

Cultures dissected …

structured refusal

Cloistered eruptions

dearth to accept

  

Rising triumphant

 they steal from each other

 Defining their existence

—by what they reject

 

 

(Septa R5: September, 2023)

A broken wing

in death’s chicane

Where pigeons fall

unending pain

 

A blinded flock

to circle down

As fangs await

both wolves and hounds

 

While far above

a falcon stalks

Vision prescient

it never balks

 

A broken wing

once clipped in fear

the raptors chase

—with canids near

 

(The New Room: October, 2023)