Late into the night,

  the characters become real

 

As the words that I’ve written,

  cement and congeal

 

Late into the night,

  they take over my soul

 

My reality transformed

  —my emptiness whole

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

I’m a Poet…

 —I don’t have to explain

 

(North Wales Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

 

The Poetry Of Friends

  The Music Of Love

 

The Beginning Of The End

  Death From Above

 

The Unwritten Word

  Wuthering Heights

 

All Truth Now Unheard

  A Thief In The Night

 

Advise And Consent

  A Darkening Sun

 

An Anthology Of Perception

  All Truth On The Run

 

A Book Never Lent

  A Farewell To Arms

 

With Time Better Spent

  Entranced By Your Charm

 

The Wind In The Willows

  The Catcher In The Rye

 

Death Calls You Silent

  The Long Goodbye

 

The Flight Out Of Nowhere

   A Midsummer Night’s Dream

 

That Someone To Care

  Islands In The Stream

 

The Reasons Left Unsettled

  To Loan Sacred Ground

 

Hansel And Gretel

  Once Lost And Then Found

 

One Unto Many

  Many Unto One

 

Befriending Your Enemy

  A Raisin In The Sun

 

The Russians Are Coming

  What Is To Be Done

 

The Fire Now Burning

  Fathers And Sons

 

All Freedom Aborting

  Last Link In The Chain

 

The Message Retorting

  A Universe Shamed

 

That Moment To Enslave

  Destiny’s Child

 

Lonely Are The Brave

  The Call Of The Wild

 

With Hope Now Asunder

  Lone Wolf At The Door

 

The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter

  —Our Final Encore

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

Fame is

Contingent

On

One of two

Possibilities

 

Complete

Rebellion

Or

Absolute

Capitulation

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

 

 

Yesterday and tomorrow…

  the same impostor

    —wearing different masks

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

I’d rather write the truest book

  for just one man to read

 

Than draft that one of mass appeal

  to blush but never bleed

 

I’d rather speak that one great line

  to a canyon vast and wide

 

Than forever to recite mundane

  what an audience will comply

 

I’d rather die a poet’s death

  than an actors out on loan

 

I’d rather live within myself

  than in crowds where I’m alone

 

I’d rather give my last few breaths

  to that child at my knee

 

And leave with him one word of hope

  —that he may then set free

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

 

Those who are truly great

 belong to all of us

 

Living inside our memories

 —shaping what’s left of our dreams

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

Questions are often bigger

 than their answers

 

With horizons wide and spacious,

 timelines unrestrained

 

Questions often lead

 to other questions

 

With answers left to wallow

 —in a singular refrain

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

With prose…

I saw only with my eyes,

as the words left my hand 

 

With poetry…

my eyes were abandoned,

leaving only my heart 

 

But in the distance played a lyric,

freeing what my words

could never unchain 

 

And hearing its melody,

my heart forever carried away

  —in song 

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

Poets…

  spiritual escape artists

   —in a shackled and imprisoned world

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)