YEARS

into months

MONTHS

into weeks

WEEKS

into days

DAYS

into hours

HOURS

into minutes

MINUTES

into seconds

SECONDS

into moments

MOMENTS

— sublime

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

 

The bow of

God’s wrath

is restrung in

the dark

To target

injustice

and hate

as its mark

Each arrow

His judgment

of life

in the main

And striking

dead center

He frees us

— again

 

(1^st Book Of Prayers: May, 2025)

In the end

we die alone

 

In the end

no blade to hone

 

In the end

do Angel’s call

 

In the end

when rhythm stalls

 

In the end

which deck unstacks

 

In the end

our health attacked

 

In the end

we pray for more

 

In the end

but fate endures

 

In the end

one final change

 

In the end

whose face remains

 

In the end

the bonds break free

 

In the end

— one last decree

 

(Radnor Pennsylvania: May, 2025)

Can you hope

to guarantee

the truth

of conclusion

 

The paradox

of confirmation

the duality

of illusion

 

Can you swear

on ten bibles

only lying

on nine

 

With assurances

granted

before losing

— your mind

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

Perception

is the potion

where pudding

holds the proof

 

The details

get bedeviled

 Martini’s

all Vermouth

 

A good girl

or a bad girl

the wind

can blow both ways

 

Looking right

or looking left

the truth

— not on display

 

(The New Room: May, 2025)

 

 

“Handmaid of Patriarchy”  

the garden rezoned

Embattled virility

misogyny cloned

 As Delilah revolts  

 a new Samson on scene

One half of the whole

left to drown in the stream

Each genders new quotient

to minus the plus

A He without Her

— the destruction of us

 

(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: May, 2025)

All the pure thinkers

are slave to the Poet

Their theories self-serving

whose quotients divide

 

With ‘facts’ that convict them

to prisons constructed

From every transcendence

— their numbers can’t hide

 

(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: May, 2025)

In their formative

moments

artists live alone

Sharing themselves

only when

the pain has dulled

 

In corners

of dark musings  

their spirit’s hide

Calling out  

whenever the lights go down

— and the rush is gone

 

(The New Room: May, 2025)

I had

all the wealth

And I had

all the fame

I had all

the glamour

One life

could contain

 

I had

all the friends

And I had

all the foes

That now sit

as equals

On the end

of my nose

 

I had

all these things

But one message

rings true

To have

and to hold

Is but folly

— adieu

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

The older

I get

the simpler

it seems

 

Each day

growing freer

divorced from

my dreams

 

Each year

brings the seasons

of Summer

through Spring

 

And months

in transition

new changes

they bring

 

The answers

I chased for

those questions

I asked

 

Rest quietly

dormant

in the future

and past

 

As time

now a mistress

no longer

a wife

 

My world’s

come full circle

in this magic

— called life

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)