In the shadow

of perfection

time stops

— as eternity takes form

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

Papa said …

“Sentimental

people are cruel”

trading what might be

for what is

 

Filling their plates

with what’s not

on the menu

longing for soda

without fizz

 

Papa wrote

distant

always bringing it close

while leaving the weak

to surmise

 

With feeling

embodied

in hardscrabble words

to challenge but death

— so implied

 

(Gertrude Stein Remembers: August, 2025)

 

Do you like

knowing

or the idea

of knowledge

The pretense

of perception

or a wellspring

sublime

 

Political

correctness

or the search

for a moonbeam

Relighting

your way

as you glow

— in its shine

 

(The New Room: August, 2025)

Not living

longer

but dying

slower

The chemo

dripping

death’s shadow

appears

 

Each moment

fringed

with a joy

ill censored

The countdown

has started

whose bell

— is near

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

 

Live long enough

and we end up alone

No matter our fortune

no matter our throne

 

Life will have sway

as our journey unwinds

One breath at a time

— our voices unrhymed

 

(Augustinian Seminary: July, 2025)

Science

has brought

us closer

to the edge of our oblivion

Nuclear fission

angel dust

processed foods

and smog

Two steps forward

ten steps back

ennobling every dirty fact

as children choke and cry

There’s one award

the Swede’s leave out

that’s missing

on their dais

The Nobel Prize

for mass destruction

as progress masquerades

— unchecked

 

(Sweden: May, 2008)

The pathway to hell

paved with good intentions

— and unwritten words

 

(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)

Reconciling

life’s ledger

hoping

it’s in black

 

Every deed

and every need

accountable

in fact

 

Debits

fighting credits

to balance

in the end

 

The gist of life

through joy and strife

where numbers

— will portend

 

(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)

You don’t have

to write them all

but thoughts

deserve a chance

 

To live beyond

this time and place

in words reborn

to dance

 

You don’t have

to set them free

but guilt

will curse your ink

 

For thoughts unread

trapped in your head

to wander

— indistinct

 

(The New Room: July, 2025)

We all search

for prescience

the future

on hold

 

As each

dying moment

forever

unfolds

 

We all crave

 the silence

preparing

for death

 

Its welcoming

stillness

a last

 — final breath

 

 

(The New Room: July, 2025)