Only the dead
see an end
to war

Ashes to ashes
dust
keeping score

Only the living
revere
the dead

The past
in exile
—the future in dread


(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)

What is the age
of reality itself
Older than
a metaphor
Unreferenced
on a shelf

What is the distance
unmeasured from within
Spoken of
but never seen
A poets
dying whim

What is time uncounted
as numbers lose their clout
The hourglass
returned to sand
An abacus
in doubt

What is love ungifted
but feelings’ last excuse
To roam unlinked
between the chains
And blame it
—on the Muse

(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)

Of the many cures
—there is no cure

(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)

The days are long
the years are short
as eternity
—whistles a tune

(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)

Stubbing your toe
before feeling the pain
Two things that are separate
one thing that remains
The trauma unwelcome
its closure to bear
Stimulus birthing
—response in the air

(The New Room: November, 2023)

Patience
is only
for those
who have
time

The rest
left
to panic
jumping
the line

Sentience
metered
and charged
by the
hour

Despair
given
freely
among
—the most dour

(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)

Oh
to be
a rock
guitarist

Oh
to be
forever
young

Oh
to travel
beyond
the fret board

Oh
to revel
in Heaven
strung

(Listening To Jeff Beck: December, 2023)