YEARS
into months
MONTHS
into weeks
WEEKS
into days
DAYS
into hours
HOURS
into minutes
MINUTES
into seconds
SECONDS
into moments
MOMENTS
— sublime

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

The bow of
God’s wrath
is restrung in
the dark
To target
injustice
and hate
as its mark
Each arrow
His judgment
of life
in the main
And striking
dead center
He frees us
— again

(1st Book Of Prayers: May, 2025)

In the end
we die alone

In the end
no blade to hone

In the end
do Angel’s call

In the end
when rhythm stalls

In the end
which deck unstacks

In the end
our health attacked

In the end
we pray for more

In the end
but fate endures

In the end
one final change

In the end
whose face remains

In the end
the bonds break free

In the end
— one last decree

(Radnor Pennsylvania: May, 2025)

Can you hope
to guarantee
the truth
of conclusion

The paradox
of confirmation
the duality
of illusion

Can you swear
on ten bibles
only lying
on nine

With assurances
granted
before losing
— your mind

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

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)