Wielded
like a
loaded gun
His phone
was thrusted
forth
Proof
of what
I knew
was false
Refusing
all
discourse
Armed
with but
an empty
tweet
Chosen
by a
bot
His mind
was trapped
inside a myth
Whose fiction
dearly
— bought
(Rosemont College: April, 2025)
Poetic trattoria
a feast for the eyes
Visionary smorgasbord
of what — and then why
(Dreamsleep: April, 2025)
You can’t make a deal
with a Judas
As tenured
they govern on high
Like the British
who sought our indenture
With graft and self-interest
they lie
You can’t play the game
any longer
When rules only favor
the few
Where freedom is held
as a hostage
And verity’s fairness
— askew
(The New Room: March, 2025)
We often reach the future
by sailing in the past
Our course in life a distant breeze
— that steps tomorrows mast
(Dreamsleep: April, 2025)
Don’t tell
me
what I
already know
Don’t give
me
what I
already have
Don’t take
me
where I’ve
already been
Don’t play
me
what I’ve
already heard
Dissuading
moments
when left
unbound
Preempt
the silence
a devil’s
sound
But deep
inside
satanic
winds
A Savior
whispers
beyond
— the din
(Dreamsleep: April, 2025)
Why are you
waiting
your house
is burning
Run while
you can
from the blaze
inside
What will
be left
in the morning
after
But naked
ashes
and tears
— uncried
(Dreamsleep: April, 2025)
Shepherds
of echo
sirens
that call
Masters
of legend
trapped
in the Fall
Moonlight
on ice fields
whispering
still
Voices
stay buried
destiny’s
will
Sunlight
awakens
mountains
that sigh
Hidden on
summits
new answers
there hide
But with
every Spring
a melting
ensues
Flowing
life’s message
recalled
— and renewed
(Memories Of Absaroka: May, 1997)
The eggs had been colored
and scattered about
The baskets were hidden
the children to shout…
“Was he here Mom, was he here”
they yell from upstairs
“Come down and find out”
she says—nary a care
Their little feet rush
taking two steps at once
Wide eyes dart all over
playing their hunch
Living and dining rooms
they tear with a fever
No corner is safe
from the incursion of either
“I found it, I found it”
the bigger one said
The smaller one saddened
their heart filled with dread
“The Bunny forgot
there’s no candy this year”
From across the big room
the first start of a tear
“The Bunny never forgets”
their mother cried out
“You have to look harder
both inside and out”
As the front door was opened
the little one chimed …
“Mom, he didn’t forget
— it was here all the time”
(To My Grandchildren: Easter 2017)
Upon reaching the top
I found a new bottom
Polarity lies
with the truth ill begotten
Direction a ruse
in misguided fruition
As searchers take flight
— in their new destitution
(The New Room: January, 2025)
When I was
a young man
I wrote as
a young man
Needing music
and art
to deal
with the times
But now
as an old man
my heart
chases neither
While dwelling
inside
what this moment
— has found
(The New Room: April, 2025)
An Anthology Of Perception 