Without there being  
A God
I could never question  
His existence
Through the power of
The question
Divinity shines
Do birds question?
Do apes question?
Do flowers question?
Only man questions…
—and only man knows why

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

Nobody knew me,
  and that was my choice

The distance I kept
  protecting my voice

Though others had promised,
  their words fell in vain

My spirit untarnished
   whose breath I lay claim

My heart often suffered
  the pain I’d been caused

But a force pulled me inward,
  all hurt left on pause

This pathway my own,
  its direction so clear

Where alone I must travel
  —new voices to hear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)

Carrying your heart
Inside my pocket
I traveled the world
Searching for love
When fate was unkind
You never complained
As I forgot to thank you
  —time after time

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)

You have to cross the perimeter,
  for your border to expand

Stepping over the line,
  of yourself to demand

You have to follow that inner voice,
  calling out sacred and new

Rejecting false limits,
  on your way to the truth

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

I’m never lonely,
  — I’m a writer

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2014)

To tell if you’re a Poet,
  from the first line to your last

Do your words connect with feeling,
—the future to the past

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Deposit after deposit, memory is stored,
  interest compounding anew  

To transfer its balance of riches and gains,
—avarice must first bid adieu

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Lunacy…
  the unholy marriage
   —of laughter and fear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

Once the words are written down
  —you'll never die alone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

I want to play not manage,
  write not teach

I want to drive—all controls in hand

I want to be like the rain across
  the mountains

Not the river that may turn to sand

I want to be that ******
  with a single bullet

And not part of the infantry’s trek

I want to be the first
  to cross the tundra

Without needing a map to check

I want the bugle to blow
  from my own lips

So others may advance and attack

I want roses free, to line
  my front walk

Replanted from the garden out back

I want feet that will always
  climb above

The timid and reluctant below

I want memories to follow me
  out of this world

To a place that is just mine to know

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Like leaves in the wind,
  words scatter about

From the woods and high grass,
  they call and they shout

“Come find us, come free us,
  we’re out here alone

“The Muse has deserted,
—and left us disowned”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Writing for tomorrow,
  today is enhanced

Writing for tomorrow,
  my mind and heart dance

Writing for tomorrow,
  my place is affirmed

Writing for tomorrow,
  my name is confirmed

Writing for tomorrow
  the future reeled in

Writing for tomorrow
  new moments begin

Writing for tomorrow
  old crucibles filled

Writing for tomorrow
—the present instilled

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

You want it to make sense
You want it to become clear
Your feigned self importance
No longer precious or dear
But the only one caring
And the one still in doubt
A mirrored reflection
Of what never comes out
The lunch breaks upon you
Again eating alone
Your steak is still raw
Chewed right to the bone
The banter around you
Seems innocent and yet
The shroud that surrounds you
Wards off and deflects
“You gain nothing by trying”
You gain nothing you say
As you begin crying
For those cast astray
That girl in the tall grass
That one in your arms
Went to be with another
When you bartered your charms
Her daughter who’s grown now
Some say looks like you
Could it be then you wonder
When the times were so few
You pay the cashier
And slowly walk out
This bill had been dear
More than you had allowed
With the bone in your pocket
You head back to your desk
As the cry of a mockingbird
Decries and behests
Your pen then runs dry
As you again start to write
On your left eye a sty
All vision in blight
Only then do you notice
Hanging pink and in front
And you know that your future
Now a dog that can’t hunt
So you walk to his office
And sit down in the chair
You look at him soulless
And try not to care
He explains “That he’s sorry”
That “The timing’s not right”
He says that you’re valued
But be gone by tonight
As you clean out your desk
A new feeling partakes
You look up to the ceiling
Knowing all that’s at stake
And that feeling is good
That feeling seems right
As the feeling then pushes
And the feeling alights
You decide now emboldened
To stop on the way home
At the house of that one
You left forever alone
You heard of divorce
And you wonder how bad
The damage it left her
Was it worse than you had
As you slow down your car
She stands in the yard
As you speed up your heart
She says ‘Directions’ how far
She does not recognize you
Have you changed all that much
She looks at you puzzled
As you long for her touch
And you drive away empty
As you drive away cold
And you drive away blackened
From your heart to your soul
But your path is now clear
Though you’ve no place to go
And those things that you’ve feared
Have now rightly been shown
As you walk in the kitchen
The door never had locked
Standing there and still smitten
The one you thought had forgot
“Was that you in the car earlier
Was that you, really you
I couldn’t believe it
Because I still love you, I do”
A reward wrapped in burlap
The priciest kind
Where if never rejected
You are never to find
So make just one promise
To then promise again
To be true to your feelings
—from beginning to end

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)

Words rushed through my head,
clearing cobwebs away

All letters on edge,
cutting doors as they played

From one room to the other,
they matched up and danced

And from basement to attic,
my mind was enhanced

Within reason, beyond memory,
they sharpened my feel

Until alone they then left me,
— to confess and reveal

(Train-Penn Station NYC: March, 2015)

Whatchu gonna do when
  the trim is gone

Whatchu gonna do when
  the right turns wrong

Whatchu gonna do when
  the whistle blows

Whatchu gonna do when
  your feet say no

Whatchu gonna do when
  the man comes knockin

Whatchu gonna do when
  that devil’s laughin

Whatchu gonna do when
  your train don’t run

Whatchu gonna do when
  the words won’t come

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

He found what he was looking for,
   his shadow turned inside out

He moved beyond prescriptive cure,
  all questioning and doubt

He left the future-past behind,
  silhouette of all he’d missed

Impregnating the moment within himself
—to light the dark abyss

(Winston Salem, North Carolina: October, 2017)

I turn my collar up against the wind
and place my eyes along the skyline

Hoping in the darkness for some sign of you,
a colder truth I’ve never known

I pull my jacket tight across my chest
and watch the waves crash upon your shadow

Knowing the tide is like your receding heart,
washing my footsteps from the sand

The sun has now gone, the moon in flight,
and my hopes rise o’er the waves

My collar frozen and my soul on fire,
—as my wait begins again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Humanity bankrupted
  his checking account,
  but his love was not overdrawn

Each check that he wrote,
  each choice that he made,
  trading ingots for righting a wrong

With credit denied,
  and spirit affirmed,
  he continued to endorse what was real

Until bankers and lawyers
  destroyed with one stroke,
  his wishes—their power to steal

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

The ending in sight,
—beginning so near

What’s loosened now tight,
—those deafened to hear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Are you technically perfect,
  but spiritually weak

Are your words so well crafted,
  your soul cannot speak

Are your rhythms in cadence,
  and your endings in rhyme

Are you stuck in a format,
  that kills the sublime

Do your stanzas all end,
  with the beginning destroyed

Does the summation now grieve,
  with its parts overjoyed

Can you escape your own artistry,
  can your craft turn to art

Can you risk all rejection,
—to create with your heart

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

I offered up my truest and best love  
  for you

Leaving wishes on the altar  
  for everyone else

A first and last supper combined  
  into one

Judas getting fat from a promise  
  denied

Starved within the memory of a feast  
  uneaten

My bread forever disappearing   
  in the wine

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

All faith bestowed,
—all honor secured

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)

To those who seek acquaintance,
  I can’t and won’t befriend
  
No time that isn’t mortgaged,
  no hearts will I defend

Each day begins and ends
  with gifted words upon the page

My blood lay rediscovered,
  new memories to age

My spirit lost within the Muse,
  my shadow running free

Her fond acceptance zero-sum,
  her voice my destiny

To those who say they know me,
  my verse they must have read

That person lost before the scribe,
  much better left for dead

And in the moment present,
  where all things take their place

I give myself back to a choice
  —no friendship can replace

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)

Yesterday and tomorrow
 The same impostor,
  —wearing different masks

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

Life’s journey through the darkest night,
  my final verse is clear

Temptation writes now for itself,
—all heaven for an ear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)