There’s a certain type of age
that can’t get old

Death caught within the road signs
of its bartered weakness

Where voices cry a fevered wish
to all who listen

And legends write their epitaphs
—on hearts afire

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2019)

I like hitchhiking
because it’s clean…
Its ending not restrained
by false beginnings
The future more indentured
than the past
With freedom wrapped inside
this very moment
Each car another chance  
—to say goodbye

(Dreamsleep: October, 2019)

Ironic...
what we forgive in our heroes

Their faults,
tragic badges of fame

Our glasses,
colored rose without brambles

Their legend
—sealed in myth beyond blame

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2019)

The wildness of nobility,
the fire before the storm

The question with many answers
—the substance within the form

(Dreamsleep: October, 2019)

Does loneliness strike when entering a new space,
that we choose, or is chosen for us

Is the isolation a door to where we must go,
a new portal, our spirits in flux

Is being alone the price that we pay,
breaking through, old walls to come down

Fresh voices to translate, new whispers to hear
—as we tread unfamiliar ground

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2019) O/L 10-13-2019

Religion is a license
—whose fee is death

(Dreamsleep: October, 2019)

Without hope,
condemned to desire

Without dreams
—all courtship is death

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2019)