When the world turns

   on a whisper

 

Why do we insist on

  shouting

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2014)

For the lack of one letter,

  the word could not form

 

For the lack of one word,

  the entire sentence was wrong

 

For the lack of one sentence,

  the paragraph went astray

 

For the lack of one paragraph,

  the page lay undone

 

For the lack of one page,

  the chapter could not end

 

For the lack of one chapter,

  the book was now lost

 

For the lack of one book,

  its message unwritten

 

For the lack of one book

  —all promise was gone

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2014)

 

Trying to make the poetry prose

Or the prose poetic again

I insulted the meaning

With juxtaposition

Stabbing an idea

That should have been shot

Killing a verse

That should have been saved

Thinking the truth

While uttering a lie

Forming the words

  —unable to speak

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2014)

 

All of my life,

 I’ve been trying to hide

Drifting untethered

 roaming inside

 

All of my life,

 I have chosen to wait

Judging unholy

 making mistakes

 

All of my life,

 my arms have been short

The reach much too long

 as failure reports

 

All of my life,

 the truth insecure

My back to the light

  —the present unsure

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2014)

With ten more miles of wire

  my horse wants to turn back

 

There’s dark clouds over the mountain

  just a small tent in my sack

 

The fence line sits all busted

  from two bulls that went astray

 

They both missed being neutered

  last year on roundup day

 

My hands are cold and blistered

  that salve jar all but gone

 

Two wolves begin to howling

  that lonesome prairie song

 

The storm clouds now have thickened

  light pulls its covers back

 

Just one more night on the western slope

  —with eight miles left to track

 

 

   ‘From The ‘Searching For Crazy Horse Collection’”

          ‘Read In Elko Years Ago’

 

My life’s been a mess,

  but more than anything

  —I wanted to die well

 

To make up for those times

 I struggled and failed

  —and shorted the line

 

The people who knew me

 were driven away

   —in vain their love fell

 

Making love to my mistakes

 my hours were sentenced

   —through heartache defined

 

My life at an end

 more than anything else

   —I hope to die well

 

Undeserving of this honor

 I know that my chances

  —are slim, mostly gone

 

I still have to try

 to take any meaning

 —from this place where I dwell

 

A final reminder

 of all I am not

  —as I venture beyond

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2018)

 Virtue is a lover

  —that must be wed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2014)

 

“I drive people away,

  that’s what I do

To stay away

  myself renewed”

 

My life was meant

To be lived alone

In spite of what

You think you know

Inside myself

My only home

Whose armor never

Chinks when stoned

 

My life bereft

I know to you

Seems lonely  

Often misconstrued

But joy from heaven

Self-contained

Unto myself

Lives unrestrained

 

“If I drove you away, please take heart,

  my back was turned to all

To die alone, my most fervent wish

   —with no one left to call”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2014)

 

Politics and Religion…

 nothing could be further from the truth

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2014)

The older I get

 the less people to call

 is it by choice

 my spirit’s downfall?

 

The older I get

 the less then to care

 a life once so pointed

 now little to share

 

The older I get

 to never defend

 the ones that stood by me

 the ones I called friends

 

The older I get

 meat gone from the stew

 the faces just names

 of those I once knew

 

The older I get

 doors lock from within

 a constant reminder

 that blaming can sting

 

The older I get

 the less people to call

 no sand in the hourglass

   —last grain set to fall

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2014)