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)

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)