Time is a drug,

both good and bad

 

Infecting and curing,

the happy sad

 

Time is a stipend,

to cash at will

 

Its fund ever spending

—to last until

 

(The New Room: February, 2021)

Shifting into tomorrow,

today passing through the exhaust

The RPM’s marking time and space

—direction all but lost

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)

Surfing the crest of

a midsummer night’s dream,

the waves became my friend

 

Rising and falling

in sets of remembrance

—last break to never end

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)

I refuse to remember

what I can never forget

 

Words lost to my memory,

lined deep with regret

 

The faster I write,

the deeper I hide

 

A reckoning hovers

—forgiveness denied

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)

 

The answer unquestioned…

a circle begins

 

The question unanswered,

enlightenment wins

 

The answer cries lonely,

a tree with no bark

 

The question roots deeper

—new light from the dark

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)

 

 

Deception comes richly,

new lies in its purse

 

Old wolves on the mountaintop

—Gideon’s curse

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)

You could,

but you can’t

 

You would,

though you won’t

 

You did,

then you didn’t

 

You were

—and you weren’t

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)

A place though small enough to write,

still big enough to dream

 

My pen, a passport out of time,

with phrases to redeem

 

The North Wind calls, a purple sky,

on wings my ear enchants

 

And hears but one voice through the clouds

—to make the letters dance

 

(The New Room: February, 2021)

Does your writing dance above the words

or somewhere down below

 

Do voices borrowed and feelings loaned,

occlude your diction’s flow

 

Do phrases couple and stanzas mesh,

in new harmonic forms

 

Does music waltz proudly from page to page

—to score new lyrics born

 

(Walking With Colby: February, 2021)

 

 

Surrogate reality,

divorced from what’s real

 

The news on your cable,

and movies conceal

 

The brands that you purchase,

the labels you wear

 

Convince you of something,

the ‘Emperor’ shares

 

While consciously vacant,

unconsciously lost

 

The dew on the lilacs,

impermanent frost

 

Like quicksand it’s calling,

disguised as a beach

 

Your essence is falling,

and far out of reach

 

As peacocks left strutting,

unable to fly

 

Your time ever wasted

—and waving goodbye

 

(Bryn Mawr College: February, 2021)