Charted lanes of custom,

 complacency alights

familiarity trumping all

—mindless in the night

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)

How looks my love at dawn

in Spring

the air a festive vase

of hope

to lord each sprout of truth

with praise

and sing what only birds

announce

 

Her steps become a

garden path

her breath a fragrance

o’er the hills

to dance with future,

present, past

and spin each partner

—time undone

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)

Lingering…

the shadow of his wings

 a constant reminder

that love is a covering

to strip and lay bare

like that final March snow

hiding daffodils within

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)

No ordered enchantment,

no purpose in luck

No dreams in forgetting,

no lover mistook

 

A bells rings in silence

when ears have gone dry

A bat’s in the chimney

when fire’s denied

 

All hail to the wonder,

all hail to the chiefs

All hail to the proctor,

all hail disbelief

 

Indentured we mingle,

inclement we fall

Inspired we stumble

—in spite of it all

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)

Writing is a messy feast

where crumbs fall to the floor

to congregate and aggregate

to hide and form and spore

 

Left alone and thrown away

these remnants take new life

invading what you fear the most

on dark and stormy nights

 

They creep inside your cleanest lines

to weaken and distract

what memory long has cast aside

now rising from the cracks

 

And latching on while holding tight

they make you speak their name

those orphaned crumbs your table cleared

—in sweeping lost disdain

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)

Within this structure,

my words remain

Each line a fortress,

as thoughts refrain

 

The ramparts solid,

its moat retracts

All quivers loaded,

as doubt attacks

 

The enemy constant,

assault on fire

What darkness births,

one phrase retires

 

The battle spoken

upon the wind

My legend written

—still safe within

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)

Good governance,

the enemy of government

States rights,

oxymoronic at best

What works,

the bane of impostors

Who exist

to feather their nests

 

Revolution

 is quickly fomenting

Change only

at the point of a gun

Voices from Concord

heard calling

With freedom not given

but won

 

(The New Room: October, 2021)

 

I lived to find silence,

chasing hither and yon

till morning turned inward

reaching deeply beyond

 

Now firmly embedded

inside of myself

my eyes turned away

—from what’s spoken unfelt

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)

The rich man seeks the alms

of my envy

And the poor man the alms

of my guilt

Both missing what hides

in reflection

Dreams trapped in the silver

to smelt  

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)

The music of passion…

it comes from within

Untouched by tomorrow,

it lives to begin

 

In corners of darkness,

through fits of despair

It waits like a songbird

—to sing out a prayer

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)