Open your eyes to see beyond the past,
Time, a reel unwound, looping too fast.
Enter future dreams lush with tears,
A kaleidoscope of fears and forgotten years.

The cigarette falls from her shaking fingers,
Ashes trace whispers where memory lingers.
Time, a distraction, but isn’t it all?
Strangers and entourage drift through the hall.

She was once a distraction—
A neon sign, a feverish attraction.
Now she’s a diagnosis,
A manic-depressive prognosis.

Regrets for the war within her rage,
Her soul, a novel with torn-out pages.
And yet, from silence, words flow clear,
Like ghosts dictating stories she can't bear.

Who are the strangers in this tableau?
Her reflection in fragments she’ll never know.
Time’s cruel arrow bends to her despair,
A loop of smoke curling in air.

Open your eyes, the past refrains,
Its endless echoes clatter in chains.
Yet futures gleam with dreams profane—
She writes them in ashes, again and again.

The heart
Is not an *****
As many think

The heart is a muscle

Does the fact that mine was crushed far too often
Make it weak
Or make it strong?

Ireland was misty grey
Cliffs of Moher one afternoon
Fr. Greeley was Chicago
South Korea was Dr. Yoon

I am growing older
Might rewatch Dune
Politics Portends
Trouble coming soon

                  Migrants!

you were never mine,
but god, i wanted you to be.
i wanted to bottle your laugh,
to trace the edges of your grin
like it held the answer
to everything i’ve been missing.

you, with your effortless charm,
your easy way of lighting up the dark.
i was just someone standing too close,
trying to catch the glow.

we were nothing,
and yet, i keep replaying
the moments we almost were.
your voice still echoes in my mind,
a melody i’ll never get to finish.

you are gone now,
and i’ve learned to live
in the absence of your warmth,
but every now and then,
i feel the ghost of you—
and it almost feels like love.

Isn't it strange
How we are all living on a random sphere
In the middle of a nothingness
Thats also everythingness
and has trillions of other giant yet tiny spheres too?

Just a few months in Ireland
Rode the Dublin bus
After my dad dies
What will become of us?

One son works at a wedding place
One at a grocery store
I work washing dishes
Gonna wash some more

California snow
Tahoe - beauty sight
She slips, she slips away
Gatsby's green light

                     Alright.

Dr. Thomas was my teacher
He had the Southern charm
My boys are growing older
Keep them safe from harm

I like Irish music
Bono and U2
My Irish eyes are green
But I'm Carolina blue

                    And you?