I’ve left it on rock ledges
elevators and bars
Taxicabs, backpacks
and motorcycles far
It sat on the Great Wall
as I walked away
And fell out of the raft
in Wyoming that day
It flew on the airplane
after I’d gotten off
Spending two days in Key West
Fedex as the cost
It’s kept me in touch
that’s important I know
But the voice it records into words
— much more so
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
My Cell Phone Voice Recorder
Each vein
is a memory
Each wrinkle
attests
Her bones
dry and brittle
Her grip
still arrests
Each day
brings a promise
Each night
a regret
Her will
is sustaining
Her heart
is at rest
She speaks
in a voice
that is shrill
out of tune
While losing
her wits
often
long before noon
But when
that itinerant
coyote
calls
She looks
down
at her hands
— and remembers it all
(Cody Senior Center: November, 2025)
It’s two hours before dawn
and I’ve slept through the night
The rarest occurrence
her footsteps come light
She let me sleep soundly
and she let me dream free
Before entering my bedroom
and calling to me
“Kurt, it’s Laura, she whispered
as she got into bed
Are you happy in the solitude
alone in your head
“Your spirit’s been truant
but its voice I recalled
Wake up from your sleep
follow me down the hall
“I’ve something to show you
so rub out your eyes
And see what you looked like
as a boy about five”
She led me straight down
to the end of the hall
The door was half open
and my voice I heard call
“Aunt Laura, my crayons
have broken again
Aunt Laura, I need
some new words to begin
“The ones that you left me
I now know by heart
And to Mother and Father
I recited each part”
The boy smiled at her
and she smiled back at him
Before walking me back down
to my room deep within
“I’ve always been with you
and love you My Dear
As your Muse I’ve been charged
with your care all these years
“You were young when I met you
and took you by hand
Then to never abandon
your voice as a man
“Your days may come easy
and your days may come hard
But each night I’ll return
— with new words from afar”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
She wrote into my dreams
the first line of a nightmare
And I can no longer sleep
in fear of the next line
She ran away with all hope
that one line to haunt me
Each new second an hour
— in this prison called time
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Poets
don’t create
a thing
But
recreate
what is
Ordering
their
size and shape
In lines
bespoken
his
Poets
take what life
gives out
Then
changing
mass and form
In words
not used
their way before
With
feelings
— newly born
(Villanova University: November, 2025)
Just one change
and everything’s different
In reference
the dominoes fall
If the speed of light
were two miles an hour
Would Summer
ever cycle to Fall
If light rays travel
in search of a lens
At a speed
even turtles could pass
At three miles an hour
I’d focus on memory
Walking backward
— into the past
(Dreamsleep: November, 2025)
Did you build that open portal …
one to leave upon
One that takes you back inside
one that plays your songs
Will your exit be an entry
to that place that waits within
Will tomorrow be the past in drag
— as you shed that final skin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
My generation
is unfixable
The young
still hold the key
Unsullied by the
vested norm
They look
but also see
They hear those
inner voices
Not yet despoiled
and dark
Believing that:
“Oh Yes We Can”
As seniors
— bray and bark
(Radnor High School: November, 2025)
A Martyred Plea
That voice in the distance
the one that’s been scarred
A whisper screams loudest
— when heard from afar
(Dreamsleep: November, 2025)
Adrift
If you can’t find
the right harbor
At least
— find the right wind
(Dreamsleep: November, 2028)
Till Mariah Calls
Life
the aberration
Death
what’s affirmed
Alive
for a moment
Till dust
— we return
(Dreamsleep: November, 2025)
Deciding for another
— the greatest responsibility of all
(The New Room: November, 2025)
An Anthology Of Perception 