Whittling the point
paring it down
cutting the volume
honing the sound

Sharpening each line
words drop and fall
meaning to thunder
— lightning recalled

(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)

Blisters of
disillusion
fester
and boil

Vision
rubbed raw
in the darkness
embroiled

False
expectations
lie scattered
and burned

Ignoring
our history
with lessons
— unlearned

(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)

Abandoning
yesterday
haunts me
today
Interring
reminder
of what’s not
in play

Bypassing
my choosing
evading
my will
Each sight
unenvisioned
in blindness
— distilled  

(The New Room: February, 2025)

Embalming
your memory
the funeral
dragged on
Returning
the remnants
that pain
had prolonged

The pallbearers
stationed
each side
of the grave
A grieving
reminder
that time
— had enslaved

(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)

The gift
of a friend
A blessing
from God

An arm
that protects
A light
in the fog

The gift
of a friend
Enduring
and true

For life
everlasting
To live
— inside you

(To My Dear Friend, David Mackrell: February, 2025)

Often
in the space
of words unspoken
— truth most dearly hides

(The New Room: February, 2025)

Rows of forgiveness
fallow in winter
Waiting for summer
their treasure installed

Leftover morsels
heated in darkness
Sating the hunger
  of those who are called

Seeds from the past
replenish the future
Buried salvation  
awaits in the ground

Fasting on yesterday
feasting tomorrow
Waiting for supper
— when dinner bells sound  


(The New Room: February, 2025)