The threshold of lies

is hearsay

 

The jailer and killer

—of truth

 

(Devil’s Tower: July, 2019)

If words were notes upon a score,

would the melody play beyond…

 

Each phrase a chord, each line a hymn,

each paragraph a song

 

If words could sing harmonic,

as their letters drift away

 

Would music take you past that place

—verse forces you to stay

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

As you age and days get shorter,

do you reach out for the source

 

Whether family, friends, or lover,

is the pull a constant force

 

Is the attraction of returning,

going home to shed your sins

 

The final stage in your progression

—to refresh and rebegin

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

A pat on the back,

smoke up the rear

 

Shake with both hands

—perdition is near

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2019)

Rushing waters,

bleeding hearts

 

Autumn winds,

the past departs

 

Voices silenced,

the coming rain

 

Ice forming

—to freeze the pain

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2019)

If music is the soul of art,

then what can writing be

 

Is it the eyes, perhaps the heart,

in printed reverie

 

Is music the stage whereupon,

all other art encores

 

For if it is, all words rejoice

—to sing for evermore

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017 )

Looking beyond our differences,

the transformation deepened

 

Speaking without words,

the conversation spiked

 

Touching without holding on,

all feelings turned to ecstasy

 

Loving while letting go

—the caterpillars delight

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Myth unlocks the question

—magic then affirms

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Forty years of bad road,

a path of broken glass

 

Potholed memories line my thoughts,

devil waiting fast

 

Daring me…

 

“Retrace your steps,

your quickest way back home

 

“Forty years of shattered dreams

—ahead the millers stone”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Winter came early…

Its heavy coat

Sealing in the cold

The sky

More visible

Its view not the same

The blue faded gray

With distance in charge

And the wind

The wind never stops

The wind

Never whispers

Like in summer

Sneaking up from behind

Touching your neck

Reclaiming your soul

The winter wind

Pushes and shoves

With its fury

Knowing its time

Is not limitless

Frozen in desperation

Winter comes early

When thoughts cannot let go

And holds on tightly

Until the past says

Goodbye

Forcing you

Into the gray dawn

And the grayer noon

And the earlier

And earlier

Night

Sacrificing your

Reluctance

For a chance

To be free

For that one

Opening

To see

What’s never been there

You close your eyes

And step

Into the frigid wind

Arms extended skyward

Holding nothing back

Staring into

The face of death

Asking for life

Looking beyond

An eternity of doubt

To that place you can

Return

That place you now

Remember

As winter came early

—again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)