Are we truly masters

  of the word

 

Are we really in charge

  of what gets heard

 

Are we truly finished

  at periods end

 

Are we really past the point

 of starting again

 

Are we truly out of sync

  or out of time

 

Are we really tired

  of questioning why

 

Are we truly silent

  if that next breath comes

 

Are we really alone

 —when the ink still runs

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

In the darkest final hours,

  I began to write

 

And my words now spoken new

  from scattered ashes light the sky

 

To begin and end each day

  caught up in beauty’s distant wake

 

All loneliness filled by pages lined

 with happiness and joy

 

My fate betrothed, once mistress

  scorned

   —a lover more than wife

 

Whose vision so much sharper,

  her dissection cuts through bone

 

To slay the muted dragon’s fire

  in present elocution

 

Beyond all past and future clouds

  above the darkening storm

 

To live each breath and gifted word

  that heaven sends pristine

 

Never destitute in blessings shown

  —or in things I wish I’d said

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Only one thing calls out to heart, body,

  and mind

 

Causing seas to part—where yourself you will

  find 

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

We’ve redefined God

Into someone

Who fits

His image

Our vision

His vision

Inconvenient

Alongside things

That won’t let go

His message untimely

With bills to pay

And concrete goddesses

To which we pray

  “a tail never tried to wag

   a bigger dog”

As we chant inside the

False rapture

Of our own

Becoming

Hiding from the very

Light

That promises

 —to show us the way

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Thinking too much

feeling too little

 —your message shrinks and fades

 

Forgiving yourself

holding others in sin

 —a soul that can’t be saved

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Not only did the words come,

  they brought their friends along

 

They pitched their tent—built their fire

  and began to sing their songs

 

The sparks flew as memory rose

  good tidings in the air

 

Phrases birthed, new families penned

 —brotherhood to share

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Will the words come,

  will the words go

 

Are they forever,

  how do I know

 

What do I think,

  what do I feel

 

Memory escapes

  a spoke off the wheel

 

Written in blood

  spoken in rhyme

 

Forever to echo

  forever sublime

 

Daffodils scatter

  a wolf howls at bay

 

Nighttime has answered

  —I kneel and I pray

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Present ordained

  past future in shame

 

The Poet and Jester

  as one

 

Living unclaimed

  free and unnamed

 

Archangel and Devil

  —undone

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Sleeping with the Muse,

  my nights have grown short

 

Sleeping with the Muse,

  my spirit comports

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  words dance with delight

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  confronting my fright

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  her will tests again

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  not lover nor friend

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  my dreams sacrifice

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  all rest put on ice

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  the whispers come clean

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  excuses demeaned

 

Sleeping with the Muse,

  my spool is respun

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  divorced from the sun

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  in darkness I learn

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  the day will confirm

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  till dawn’s freeing light

 

Sleeping with the Muse

  —new words to take flight

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016) On-Line

The light burns brightest

  at journeys end

 

     “Radiant Epiphany

       Seraph’s descend”

 

Its blaze to enrapture

  the love that you give

 

     “Celestial applause

       for a life well lived”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)