My dog was hurt; he couldn’t hunt,
and left me in the field
To wander into aimlessness,
my prey as yet to yield
His nose was gone; the point was lost,
the tracks turned right then wrong
My gun recocked but sighted blind
—all certainty had gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Sleeping through forgiveness…
I’m re-invoiced by the pain
The nightmare real, escape undone,
the reasons all to blame
Trapped within my memory,
each image haunts and preys
Excuses gone as judgment reigns
—one final bill to pay
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
“Playing tennis without a net,”
perhaps Robert Frost was right
Free Verse serves with no return,
day volleys into night
One long shot into the darkness,
an open end divide
Its message fades, an echo dim
—with silence to collide
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Power…
the father of choice
Emotion…
the mother of love
Freedom…
lost child of betrothal
Returning
—on wings from above
(Richmond Virginia: April, 2019)
Never shout into the void
—when you can whisper to the heart
(Richmond Virginia: April, 2019)
Bring your lover into your world,
don’t hide inside of hers
‘A mistake too often made
with respect to women’
Self inflicted homicide…
men die of good intention
A modern age hormonal trap
—loves truth no longer free
(Greensboro North Carolina: April, 2019)
Scientific Discovery…
but one grand paradox
The Spacetime Continuum
—contradiction defined
(Greensboro North Carolina: April, 2019)
A literary sociopath…
Hemingway wrote
Both gifted and tortured,
his words they provoke
A verbal combatant,
new victories untold
His last proving fatal
—all memory on hold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
The words flock together
and stretch on the frame
Their meaning runs over,
still wet from the pain
The canvas is porous,
the easel maligned
The curtains blow outward,
faces calling in mime
The streets all a-chatter,
it was Paris in spring
And striving to look busy,
the most important of things
Looking back at my window,
above the tannery so high
A shadow stares back
—and I flee in disguise
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
The narcissism
of small differences…
The egos crown
of thorns
The sharper each
individual barb
The more frequently
it’s worn
A grand
pontification
Whose wind
blows just one way
Into the face of
vanity’s ghost
In jealous
—disarray
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
