The present in the future,

the future in the past

 

Each moment with a choice to make

—starting first or last

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)

With time,

the beginning gets close to the end

 

With time,

I no longer need to pretend

 

With time,

the feelings stand on their own

 

With time,

the reasons are best left alone

 

With time,

the music alone mine to play

 

With time,

the words free to go or to stay

 

With time,
the memories no longer a wish

 

With time,

all longing wrapped up in one kiss

 

With time,

I revisit those things I thought lost

 

With time,

I re-ember the long winter frost

 

With time,

I let go of the doubt and the fear

 

With time I embrace

—as your voice calls me near

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

My voice is explicit…

“You will never know me”

 

But each word is my Judas

—exposed and defined

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)

Verbal contracts…

  commerce of indemnity

 

Trading intention

—marketplace sublime

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)

All pretenders drowning slow,

lungs to fill with every breath

 

Casted off amongst the waves,

nothing spoken to redress

 

Treading water, spewing lies,

legs to flail in wasted states

 

Choking from each word unsaid

—trailing death within my wake

 

(St. David’s Pennsylvania: February, 2020)

An arrow from the darkness…

rejection finds its mark

 

The sharpened edge of jealousy,

its point straight through the heart

 

The bow retracts in shamefulness,

its string left slack and loose

 

One shot was made, a cursed fate

—the devil laughs anew

 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)

My pen is like a blues riff,

not always on the note

 

I bend within the moment,

new feelings reach for hope

 

A eulogy remastered,

the fire that he fed

 

The Mojo dancing with the Muse,

Marine Band his to wed

 

My words to stretch and vibrate,

a blind man theirs to read

 

They move in tribute off the page,

Sonny’s orphaned reeds

 

My hand they cease to follow,

as letters wail and slide

 

While deep in South Chicago

—the greatest harp just died

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

‘Tribute To Sonny Boy Williamson 1’

 

Between his tent and his horse

—a man divines his legacy

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

In its grip,

each bone to chafe and grind

 

All joints,

regifted vestibules of pain

 

Motion stalls,

as swelling wraps each limb

 

Sleep the angry victim

—time’s revenge

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)

In Spring I searched through rosy woodlands fair,

and kept the meadows secret within my heart

 

To wed the summer’s final wish to fall surprise

—buried in the leaves of what tomorrow brings

 

(Good Shepherd Chapel: February, 2020)