A Mississippi back road,

burns in my mind

 

Its memory twice buried,

resurfaces, reminds

 

That Mississippi back road,

you once led me down

 

Perdition, destruction

—damnation refound

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

A young poet is to an

older man

 

As an old poet is to a

younger man

 

When young then old,

when old then young

 

The future borrowed,

the past twice sung

 

The old man’s knowledge,

the young man’s youth

 

To bite the deepest

—with wisdom’s tooth

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Behind ivy thoughts and mortared speech,

my soul cannot be bought

 

As I worship freely deep within

—the truth forever caught

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Dimension,

Stretching itself

Reaching the unknown

Feeling what can’t be felt

Unnumbered

Not counted or named

Para-atomic

Time abandoned

Intention free

Returning without

Returning within,

Dimension

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Does verse reveal

the litter

 

That left strewn,

clogs up your mind

 

Does poetry

uncover

 

What the prose tries best

—to hide

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Too many choices,

not enough reasons

 

Too many memories,

not enough hope

 

Too many excuses,

begging forgiveness

 

Too much to launder

—not enough soap

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Earbuds in and phone in hand,

millennial’s converse

 

Language distant, eyes unshared,

their lives on hold—obverse

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Tearing through the sky

of my intention

 

Flying toward the birth

of my choice

 

Begging the gods for one chance

to proclaim

 

Chasing the tail end

of my voice

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Do you seek protection

from being alive

 

A turtle in its shell,

a bee in its hive

 

Do you lust for new armor,

to cover your heart

 

To shield truth inflicted

—that last poison dart

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

The older I get,

the more dear words become

 

The shorter the days,

the deeper streams run

 

With time closing in,

I seek poems and rhymes

 

Into the twilight

—for that last magic line

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)