Tonight, I became my youngest son,

my oldest son now gone

My youth reframed, new joy proclaimed,

a lost returning song

 

Tonight, I became that little boy,

whose playpen sets me free

All toys reclaimed, no further blame

—to enter joyfully

 

(The New Room: January, 2022)

The only one along this road…

riding shotgun through my mind

Tomorrow waits for someone else,

lost wanderings consigned

Forgetting what the moment augurs,

living in the past

Confirming what I’m most afraid of

—behind whoever’s last

 

(The New Room: January, 2022)

Your memory found me wordless,

too mute to carry on

Trapped between old verbs and nouns,

silence for a song

 

With love a distant haunting,

we mime a tragic vow

What once we had… the good, the bad

—this quietude abounds

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

Hard to love

—harder to know

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

You can burn a book,

but never burn its truth

The flames sear the meaning,

tattooed at the root

 

Dousing this sacrilege,

my felony went untried

Escaping with the Muse in tow

—a fugitive decried

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

What’s in a photograph

in reference to time

The events as portrayed

or what they call to mind

 

Focused on tomorrow,

the picture is lame

Its history frozen

—the future unframed

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

Religion

a prison…

to fence and restrain

 

Spoken

or written…

 it tries to contain

 

What can’t

be conscripted

or coveted pure

 

The Presence

as given

—freely endures

 

(The First Book Of Prayers: January, 2022).

The future hung desperately on to the past,

like a pilot fish to a whale

Swimming through the current of times gone by,

lost moments were impaled

The seconds ticked down, day blacker than night,

intention in denial

As deep in the din, voices cried from within

—eternity on trial

 

(The New Room: January, 2022)

The beginning and ending

are easy to see

The middle much harder

and masked by degree

 

It moves and it changes

from angle and scope

To keep you uneasy

—and married to hope

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

Hiding between imprisoned lines,

a fugitive of verse

turning my back on pleadings made,

musings that amerce  

 

The lengthy sentence of my mind,

 fleeing my recall

to leave the spoken word confined

—released to scale the wall

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)