Soft marches

spawn bravado

and cavalier soldier

He who scoffs

at distant gunfire

to meet its fury

Untested untried

untempered

his blade of little worth

As conflict preys

on the folly

— of the paper lion

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

Time

the ultimate

arbiter

 of good and bad

Time

the final judge

and jury

— of right and wrong

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

Traveling

alone

indentured

down the river

of time

 

The current

building

and pushing

me

beyond myself

 

My oars

are traded

for one last

look

around the bend

 

The anchor

buried

in tidal sands

of lost

belief

 

My compass

melted

to pay the

toll

of fates arrival

 

With rudder

steady

 as blind

I rush

— into the falls

 

(Front & Erie Ave’s: August, 2025)

You don’t have to buy the land

to own the changing landscape

Whose vista priceless yours inside

to live in mortgage free

 

Or fly a rocket toward the sun

to view each day’s horizon

That comes and goes both East and West

in transitory joy

 

You don’t have to buy a car

to travel to tomorrow

New pathways wait beyond conveyance

old footsteps in the sand

Or buy a boat and sail the seas

to hear the ocean’s roar

The transience of each crashing wave

— a gift unwrapping free

 

(Ronald McDonald House: August, 2025)

Richness of mind

the money no matter

A visual feast

uncountable wealth

 

Conceptual bullion

perceptual bitcoin

Intuitive treasure

— a fortune indwelt

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

 

I can’t afford

pride

I’m poorer

than that

 

I can’t afford

humility

Accomplishment

lacks

 

I can’t afford

vengeance

All hate

for myself

 

And least afford

love

Emotion

— unfelt

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

 

 

Everybody

wants to go

to Heaven

(but)

Nobody

wants

to die

 

Everybody

want to change

the truth

(but)

Nobody

wants

to lie

 

Everybody

wants to bend

 the law

(but)

Nobody

wants

to get caught

 

Everybody

wants to fall

in love

(but)

Nobody

wants  

— pain and loss

 

(The New Room: August, 2025)

People

surround

but I’m always

alone

In naked

seclusion

fleeing

the throne

Caught in

the snarl

of their

consonant rhyme

Shunning

all

overtures

— fields still unlined

 

(Gardiner Montana: August, 2025)

Three more hours

to sleep

unopposed

 

Three more hours

from verses

supposed

 

Three more hours

of quiet

and peace

 

Three more hours

my dreams

to appease

 

Three more hours

where time

has been screened

 

Three more hours

to live

in between

 

Three more hours

not hither

or yon

 

Three more hours

a reckoning

— dawn

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

 

 

To catch a wolf

become the wolf

where tracks lead distant

to trails beyond

 

His nose on fire

and fangs bare fronted

to follow closely

all fear withdrawn  

 

He marks each turning

with blood ill letted  

to lure the hunter

on death’s foray

 

This sojourn ends 

in wooded darkness

to enter once

— your fate to prey

 

(Beartooth Mountain: August, 2025)