Perception
is the potion
where pudding
holds the proof

The details
get bedeviled
Martini’s
all Vermouth

A good girl
or a bad girl
the wind
can blow both ways

Looking right
or looking left
the truth
— not on display

(The New Room: May, 2025)

“Handmaid of Patriarchy”  
the garden rezoned
Embattled virility
misogyny cloned
As Delilah revolts  
a new Samson on scene
One half of the whole
left to drown in the stream
Each genders new quotient
to minus the plus
A He without Her
— the destruction of us

(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: May, 2025)

All the pure thinkers
are slave to the Poet
Their theories self-serving
whose quotients divide

With ‘facts’ that convict them
to prisons constructed
From every transcendence
— their numbers can’t hide

(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: May, 2025)

In their formative
moments
artists live alone
Sharing themselves
only when
the pain has dulled

In corners
of dark musings  
their spirit’s hide
Calling out  
whenever the lights go down
— and the rush is gone

(The New Room: May, 2025)

I had
all the wealth
And I had
all the fame
I had all
the glamour
One life
could contain

I had
all the friends
And I had
all the foes
That now sit
as equals
On the end
of my nose

I had
all these things
But one message
rings true
To have
and to hold
Is but folly
— adieu

(Rhymes From The Nursery: May, 2025)

The older
I get
the simpler
it seems

Each day
growing freer
divorced from
my dreams

Each year
brings the seasons
of Summer
through Spring

And months
in transition
new changes
they bring

The answers
I chased for
those questions
I asked

Rest quietly
dormant
in the future
and past

As time
now a mistress
no longer
a wife

My world’s
come full circle
in this magic
— called life

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

The loss of
each simple
thing
hurting the most
When drama
subsides
and time slows
to its worst
Your shadow
still living
inside of my
pain
To darken each
heartache
again
— and again

(The New Room: May, 2025)