Awareness can be frozen,
  “A watched *** never boils”

When perception’s forced upon itself,
  all change in stillness toils
  
“To thine own self” the Bard entreated,
  that one truth we’re meant to find

As consciousness—the mind of God
   calls us from inside

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Forgetting to remember,
  remembering to forget

Old choices escape us,
  new decisions unmet

Forgetting to remember,
  remembering to forget

The path to the altar,
  salvations regret

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

When emptiness
replaces memory

The wind,
—forever ceases to blow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

You no longer need any help from me,
  your path is free and clear

The mantle handed off, baton passed,
  my position in the rear

You don’t really need to ask my advice,
   but I’m thrilled each time you do

You’ve gone far beyond the trail I marked,
   to me—nothing left to prove

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

My words live on undefended,
  speaking for themselves

My prayer rises, voice ascended
  —death unto itself

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

The earth cracked in Nepal,
  with fire and shame

And thousands lay dead,
  in the mountains and plains

Her crust was ripped open,
  a heart now exposed

And lives were reclaimed,
  from a heaven deposed

The story for mystics,
  a legend say some

As nature demanded,
  for things that we’d done

Her climate infected,
  and sky ringed in black

Our future as payment,
—with no turning back

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

The jaws sing
As the drip, drip, drip,
Of the petroleum chorus
Dances across
The inverted aluminum
And the hissing starts
And the hissing stays
Its smell a warning
A final omen
Like the last rose
Of summer
Or the fragrance she wore
For that final goodbye
The teeth tear inward
Like the regret for today
And the regret for yesterday
And the lament for tomorrow
Its promise broken
And your khakis red
And baptized
A stigmata
To self infliction
As the music plays constant
And the rushing you feel
An emptying of sorrow
Onto the crushed ceiling
Of a dream in reverse
Of all life in reverse
Until two arms grab you
And you fall from the sky
And you fall from the sky
Waiting
For the ground
To coronate the outcome
And for one more answer
To a ‘why’ unquestioned
And to love you one more time
But the lights are now dim
And the voices muffled
As an ***** can be heard
And store bought flowers smelled
And an old woman cries…
As a young woman cries…
And a stranger pronounces
What you feared the most
They didn’t know you
And couldn’t know you
The exit sign flashing
But there is no door
“There is no door”
—and then the music stops

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Falling leaves mark the beginning
     of natures fast . . .
       Winter is coming

Hear her Icy bell blowing distance
   through your memory,
       as trees half naked
       spot the ground with clearer vision

         “Oh alas, the winds of winter blow
              captive through my soul
          And place the stones in order, spring
               doth disavow

           Whose cold reprieve an answer grants
                 in frosted shortened light
            To spread new life upon this breast,
                —and natures womb”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 1977)

My road deeply potholed
  with those left behind

Resurfaced with pain
  all casualties mine

A road often fatal
  to family and friends

No roses to line it
  as it twisted and bent

When forced to look back,
  I see nothing but blood

From my hands to the cradle
  on those that I’ve loved

If you ask me my reason
  for acting this way

With eyes straight ahead,
  I’d have nothing to say

The road getting shorter
  compressed in the light

Behind me those bodies
  that questioned my flight

The deeper I travel
  newer endings begin

This toll mine to pay
—heading further within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)

Trying to be present,
  I gave up the master plan

Sacrificing what’s past beyond
  —reclaiming who I am

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

Forty years of bad road,
  a path of broken glass

Potholed memories line my thoughts,
  devil waiting fast

Daring me—“Retrace your steps,
  your quickest way back home”

Forty years of shattered dreams,
  —the future paved in stone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Writing the lines,
  one word remains absent

To give the verse promise,
  new voices to fill

Speaking the words,
  I pause before ending

Taking a breath,
—as the silence distills

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Writing for confirmation,
  all words now zero-sum

As each returns, my ears embrace,
  —an audience of one

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

Youth ran away toward the front,
  as death pursued from the rear

Catching me inside the paradoxical
  whipsaw of life

I stopped, as the boy continued into the distance,
  but the reaper stopped too

Wanting me to run some more,
  preferring to attack from behind

As I turned to face my stalker, his eyes went down;
  and his presence cast no shadow

He took two steps back, but I reached for his hand
  while saying:

         “Walk with me, keep up with me
          your job here still not finished
          The boy has indeed gone, but
          the man is not yet ready to go”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2017)

Today’s gone wild,
  killers on the fringe

A life to take, its fate to make,
  tomorrow—death’s revenge

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

I go to the city
To be alone,
Distraction
Calling me away
From myself
Isolating my
Memory
Burying my
Thoughts
In endless concrete
Passing 1000 people
Never meeting
One
Never meeting
One
Who will tell me
About myself
Never meeting
One
Who will tell me
That Its real
Never meeting
One
Who will ask the question
Why,
In my darkest
Most confused
Moments
I go to the city,
—to be alone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

“Messages,
   trapped in the wind

Words,
   burrow deeply within

Voices,
  emerge from the past

Memories,
  and dreams overcast”

Leaves fall,
  branches reach for the sky

Winter clouds gather,
  snow starts to fly

Furloughed—the seeds
  march distant and free

The season long,
  its transients flee

Vision impaired,
  past futures to fade

Acceptance—rejection,
  a choice to be made

The first Nightingale sings,
  its call from beyond

A feeling unfreezes,
  old words to a song

The hills begin thawing,
  new tracks to reveal

Salvation once promised,
  no longer concealed

Winds from the west,
   bring rebirth and enthrall

The sun melting lies,
  —and winter recalled

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

I knew I shouldn’t,
  but despite the pain and hurt I still could

Like the Bluesman said…
  “You got a bad way of doing me good”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Thank you for the confusion Lord,
  — and thank you for the doubt

Thank you for all those unsure moments,
  — when I could neither whisper nor shout

Thank you for the people Lord,
  — those who loved me or hated in vain

But thank you most for the girl I wed,
  — the one who took away my pain

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

When you’re inside,
  you can always get out

But stuck outside,
  you must plead and then shout

“please let me
  please let me
  please let me in”

This darkness unending,
  my veneer wearing thin

“please let me
  please let me
  please let me back”

My key has been stolen
  —my memory hacked

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016) Online+ 8/26/2018

At what point…
  does the fiction you’ve created become true

At what point…
  do old lies make more sense than new truths

At what point…
  do prevarication and veracity reframe

At what point…
  do they come together—their message the same

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

Our lives were of this moment…
  the wave made sure of that

Winter nineteen sixty-nine
  Waimea’s fury spat

Thirty feet and building
  the giants all had come

Their lips four stories high above
  too late to cut and run

The paddle out a nightmare
  the ride a waiting terror

The drop in looming zero-sum
  the wall the devils mirror

We made it down and set our fins
  to climb the face again

Our ears were deaf, eyes frozen wide
  once more to climb the mountain  

On top we leaned and split the crest
  last turn to surf the violence

The beach in sight, through foams delight
   —death wading through the silence

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)
           ‘Memories Of Waimea’

Questioning forward,
  answering back

Ideas move inward,
  time has gone slack

This moment eternal,
  reference hacked  

The couplets on fire,
—reason attacked

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Between what is and isn’t,
lies a canvas of what could be

Colors in contrasting unison,
tomorrow’s brush strokes—paint can free

Shores of promise, woods of joy,
  still-life in eternal relief

Framing as one, styled for all,
  its message forever—yet brief

(Train from Fredericksburg: April, 2017)

Poetry,
  barbell of the written word

Resistance exercise
  for the status-quo

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Many fuels create the heat,
  but one temperature reigns supreme

Many fuels create the heat
  —but one temperature frees the light

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)

You till your own garden
  you sow your own seeds

You harvest the memories
  you feast on the breeze

You water those choices
  both made and unmade

Your truth deeply hoed
  —veracious to lay

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)

A window framed with memory
  lets in the brightest light

Its lock and hasp long since removed
  a journeyman’s delight

Casting off the millstone
  the rock of age has come

As darkness hides beyond the sash
  —to greet the rising sun

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2018)

All virtue intended,
  but darkness conspired

The moon bringing shadows,
the wind bringing liars

Our memories entrapped,
  as time’s myth reigns again

From clouds that are hidden,
—where thunder begins

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)