Shedding a final tear

from the cellar of my pain

The walls close in the sorrow

imprisoning me again

 

Breathing a final sigh

into a memory you forget

My words trapped into silence

—alone with my regret

 

(The New Room: January, 2022)

If a million people read your work,

or possibly just one

 

What then will change, the numbers feign

—result still zero-sum

 

(The New Room: January, 2022)

I’m running out of money,

but I’ve still got some time

and only just one question

…can you lend me a dime

 

My dollars spent on something

that quarters can’t divide

my nickels for what’s come and gone

…can you lend me a dime

 

Tomorrow comes as landlord,

whose lease you can’t cosign

my place reserved but not in ink

…can you lend me a dime

 

My tenancy is in arrears,

foreclosing on my mind

last chance to stay evictions sway

…can you lend me a dime

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

 

 

 

Using the intellect

to understand God

A circle unending

no light in the fog

 

Our mind like a hammer

to pry and to nail

Constrained by our motion

and destined to fail

 

But deep in our essence

that we’ve named the soul

A voice is there calling

a bell waits to toll

 

To ring in tomorrow

with songs of today

Proclaiming the music

—our spirit’s ordained

 

(Beaupre: January, 2022)

He outlived his father

 to outlive himself

The shadow he chased

—an ace left undealt

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

I hate the business of writing

the commerce of word craft

the tedium of publishing

the deadlines imposed

 

I hate the word count

the editing and proofing

the book signing travel

and agents exposed

 

I hate the promotion

each workshop and fair

the reviews and the podcasts

the bookstores that sell

 

But I love the writing

when the words come together

releasing my spirit

—my fortune to tell

 

(The New Room: January, 2022)

 

Does your writing lack power,

 is it merely verbose,

as you labor line to line

 

Is the message red meat

or a vegan’s delight,

its essence so defined

 

Each word as an arrow

that strikes for the heart,

its tip to preordain

 

The strength of the meaning

abandoning all

—when destined to explain

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

It’s not about what’s right…

but about who has the power

to dictate what’s right

Somewhere West of where he was,

and East of where he’d been

The mountains called their distant cry,

a pleading heard within

The alpine air, the red-tailed hawk,

their spirits hail his name

To thence return, the past on fire

—his freedom to reclaim

 

(Chief Joseph Highway: September, 2021)

Oftentimes, what doesn’t get said

—makes the loudest sound

 

(Hotel Majestic Saigon, Vietnam: January, 2014)