You thought that you could skip a stitch,

the thread provided free

 

You thought no one would ever notice,

just one small opening

 

The seam then weakened steadily,

threads loosened left and right

 

Excuses now unraveling,

Old Glory taking flight

 

The sinew given strong and taut,

to seal the danger out

 

But that one stitch you failed to close,

won’t mute the nightmare’s shout

 

Miss Ross is now in mourning,

as the stars have left the field

 

That one stitch you’ve forsaken

—draining blood that wouldn’t yield

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

The charlatans bankrupted

his checking account,

but his love was not overdrawn

 

Each check that he wrote,

each choice that he made,

trading ingots for righting a wrong

 

With credit denied

and spirit affirmed,

he continued to endorse what was real

 

Until bankers and lawyers

destroyed with one stroke,

his wishes—their power to steal

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Do you eat your own cooking,

do you live what you write

 

Do you enjoy your own company,

do you dream well at night

 

When you look in the mirror,

do you like what you see

 

Through the eyes of a child

—is your heart then set free

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

I often sit here waiting,

for truant words to come

 

To chase the thoughts now fleeting,

messages on the run

 

These days I sit impatient,

as I wonder to myself

 

Are time and memory draining

—precious moments left unfelt

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Making sense of it all…

our grandest myth

 

Wisdom born of age,

bleeding youth’s betrayal

 

Questions dry unvarnished,

cold naked in the night

 

Darker darks reface the cliff,

all edges sharper cut

 

Two images, clearer than before,

preying in deadly contrast

 

Wonder imprisoning the day

—fear stalking the night

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Is a poem ever finished…

or a song completely sung

 

Does today end with tomorrow

—is love forever young

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

My ticket punched, the fares been paid,

a train sits waiting, rails now laid

 

My ticket punched, the past on hold,

a future scorned, the present bold

 

My ticket punched, the whistle blows,

its light shines distant, truth aglow

 

 My ticket punched, a burning thirst,

a heart to quench—new tracks in search

 

(Villanova Station: March, 2017)

Closer to words

than I am to people

 

Meaning,

in place of love

 

Heart felt recital,

 truant revival

 

In script

—to rise above

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2019)

You don’t have to die

to linger in hell

 

You don’t have to go hungry

to starve

 

You don’t need the darkness

to find yourself blind

 

While the devil

—his shadow endures

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2019)

 

Writing…

 the only suture

 

When the truth

 starts to bleed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)