If I could start back over fresh,

a songwriter I’d be

 

The words inside the music,

in joyful harmony

 

If I could greet the dawn again,

I’d pick up the guitar

 

And strum my way into the night

—toward that distant star

 

(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)

 God created distance,

so the wounded could go home

 

The searchers and the dreamers,

the ones born bound to roam

 

He then laid down the open plain,

below a towering sky

 

And set his voice into the wind

—for pilgrims such as I

 

(Villanova University: March, 2020)

 

If not in memory’s service,

do we still write the words

 

To leave the past unledgered

—and by token paid

 

(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)

Silver lining,

 pouch of gold

 

Last remittance,

 past unsold

 

Blessing tendered,

pearl gateway plain

 

Fallen Angel

—redemption claimed

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)

A truck driver passes through

a hole in the sky

 

His rig self inclusive,

his load staying dry

 

Eighteen wheels of redemption,

the manifest signed

 

Delivery as promised

—his docking sublime

 

(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once I tell you what it means,

the cell walls isolate

 

Other meanings locked inside

—no hope of an escape

 

(Inspired By Bob Dylan’s Comments To Dick Cavett)

Does your writing have a time stamp,

or an expiration date

 

Does it spoil in the open air,

does it falter at the gate

 

Will children still remember,

when they have grandchildren of their own

 

That what’s written once and meant to last

—those words made out of stone

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)

You left me before I found you,

never saying why

 

Your shadow my only memory

—on the threshold of goodbye

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)

You never want to look your art

directly in the eye

 

For fear of having it look away

—you orphaned bye and bye

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)

I’ve yet to meet two artists

who really like each other

 

The cobra and the mongoose,

locked in a mortal embrace

 

They say the same prayers,

as they swear the same allegiance

 

While hating what the other does

—and who the other is

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)