The wickedness

of man

trumps the goodness

of God

 

What’s harder for

a child

to see their mother dead

or their father sob

 

The greater number

of a man’s errors

come disguised

as perfection

 

As excuses

sets sail

on the sea

— of perdition

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)

Watching a hurricane

won’t get you wet

And reading more Freud

won’t help you forget

 

Mouthing the words

cannot guarantee sound

Laden with fear

hiding guilt by the pound

 

Stated intent

broken pathways to roam

Paring good wishes

right down to the bone

 

New skin in the game

and wounds that won’t heal

Eluding the cries

— and truth unrevealed

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)

The edge of eternity

  often obscured

lost in plain sight

just beyond

 

Until cutting through

a moments grief

immortalized

in song

 

Leonard Cohen and

Bob Dylan as one

freeing new spaces

inside

 

Where lost in

the maelstrom

alone disavowed

— the best of ourselves tries to hide

 

(The New Room: January, 2026)

You wouldn’t hire

a fox

to reinvent

the henhouse

And you wouldn’t

task a mute

to shout

“The Enemy’s Approaching”

 

You wouldn’t

date a woman

another’s love

she carries

And you wouldn’t

give a hand

to a foe who’s pledged

to bite it

 

You wouldn’t

show your cards

to a double-dealing

cheater

And you wouldn’t

trust a bard

who can’t read his words

with feeling

 

You wouldn’t

take the time

from an hourglass

that’s empty

And you wouldn’t

stop to ponder

on an answer

— without question

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)

A twelve-month extension

left under the tree

The Muse playing Santa

— her words my reprieve

 

(Deamsleep: December, 2025)

A conduit

of passion

Where life

can be recharged

 

Exists inside

our psyches

To free

the darkness charred

 

Isotopes

of fusion

Where fact

and fiction wed

To redefine

our essence

And make

— tomorrow’s bed

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)

 

There is nothing so acrid

— as the smell of time

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)

Arriving

like twilight

the Muse

spreads her veil

 

Where voices

once silent

crawl out

 to assail

 

The enemy

distant

the battle cry

near

 

As darkness

emboldens

what daylight

— enfears

 

 

(The New Room: January, 2026)

On how many levels

does true genius spawn

Is its gift comprehensive

or surgically drawn

 

Does it drive our emotions

like intellect swayed

Or stay pointed and focused

in only one way

 

Is it able to migrate

to conscience from mind

Can it cross a new border

or hill to be climbed

 

Will it outgrow the limits

indentured by class

Enhancing our psyches

— all borders surpassed

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)

 

You can’t fall off

the middle

Direction

yours to choose

Which way conceals

your downfall

Which way

awaits the Muse

 

The center offers

safety

Encircled

in the flow

Whose currents

hide a Siren

Enticing

— you below

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2025)