How do you teach Poetics,
can all experience be forged
Maybe Emily will share her secret,
what did she explore
How can you convert a feeling,
into words beyond the main
How do they become a Poem
—without scars to mark the pain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Is the right proprietary,
is eloquence ordained?
Who gets to decide,
who gets the acclaim?
The writer of the lyric,
the critic who disdains?
Who gets to call it Poetry
—whose blood leaves a stain?
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
A fool
A rich father
A poor boy
A dream
The theater
Of experience
One whines
The other screams
The reckoning
Once predicted
Is here
The world in flames
The fool
Just canon fodder
The boy
—his riches claimed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
My first breath every morning…
a thank-you to the Lord
My heart beats then in tribute,
single note in heaven’s chord
My last breath every evening…
as I close my eyes to sleep
To thank him softly once again
—his grace now mine to keep
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
From ‘The Book Of Prayers’
Chasing the morning…
Out of the trees
Over the hill
Quixotic trapeze
Through the valley
Crossing the lake
Into the meadow
Time overtakes
A messenger calls
The cave now in sight
Daylight behind us
—into the night
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July,2016)
A common man with bad intent
can damage and do harm
But a genius with an evil heart
—makes hellfire seem lukewarm
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Release the hasp
Pull back the mask
The key has turned
Your face to learn
Remove the lid
Reach down amid
What’s hidden deep
—as secrets sleep
Confront the lie
The souls new stye
Wash clean the pain
With loves refrain
Commit your faith
In God remake
The time is now
—all time is now
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
From ‘The Book Of Prayers’
My strength
Is that I am
Fundamentally
Unscientific
Not subject to the
Dissection
Of consequence
Or category
And not at the
Mercy
Of the scholastics
And nihilists
Who spend their days
Trying to reprove
That the whole is equal
To the aggregation
Of its parts
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
Giving up the money
for a chance at transcendence
The words became sacred,
all time was disowned
Chasing that one thing
that if caught defies memory
At one with the truth
—forever at home
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
Physics over Metaphysics,
the cart before the horse
The chisel praised, the sculptor blamed
—the tool the icon sourced
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
An Anthology Of Perception 