The words are still perfect
  as speech becomes marred

Intention unblemished
  delivery though scarred

The memories embedded
  all flashbacks infirm

Escape now for others
  —their light yet to burn

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Don’t wait for that perfect poem
  to appear

It lives in the seeds of your
  imperfection

Waiting for new furrows of wonder
  and strife
  
To flower in soil you have yet
  to plow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

I was twenty,
  and you were nineteen
  that day along the mall

When I heard a guitar
  from deep inside
  that round auditorium hall

Up on stage with legends
  Son House, Muddy,
  Johnny Winter too

A red haired, freckle faced,
  blue eyed girl
  commenced to sing the blues

You started with an apology
  saying you were outclassed
  and over matched

But once that voice
  left your heart and flew
   ….in nothing did you lack

I followed you out
  that afternoon
  in the late State College Fall

And after fifty years of looking back
  every moment
  I recall

I walked you to the bus
  as you said:
  “We’re in Harrisburg tonight

“Why don’t you come,
   it might be fun
   from there I catch a flight”

The bus was full,
  my eyes looked south
  as I hitchhiked down #322

Fate unexplained
  life forever changed
   —that special gift from you

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

If it can happen for me,
  it can happen for you

If it can happen for you,
  it can happen for me

When it happens for us,
  it happens for all

When it happens for all
  —the world is set free

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)

If you think it’s just one thing
  while believing it’s not

Or you hope it’s another,
  then folly’s your lot

If you swear it sits outside,
  as you dream from within

All meaning encrypts
  —and your eyes close again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

You left me fifty years ago
  but I still write to you today

Feeling those things that never age
  as my thoughts have turned to gray

You walked out never looking back
  and left me standing there

My heart in pieces, the future gone
  with no one left to care

New days have come, old days have gone
  the seasons change and weave

But in every memory I see your face
  —your eyes still closed to me

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Your head turned away
  but you needed to hear

Your memory in flames
  and the truth very near

Your ears became deaf
  as new words tried to form

Your fear an asylum
  —where the past is reborn

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2018)

Will vision trump
  conjecture

Can a wish
your fear dethrone

Does belief
  control your will

Until love,
—your heart to own

Does music have a language,
  does feeling have a name

Is love the sole survivor
  that calls beyond the grave

Do excuses have a reason
  for the falsehoods that they spew

Does honor have a season
  to restore the faith you knew

Do all mothers have a father
  or just sons to tell their tale

Do all preachers write their sermons
  to rehash what God curtails

Are the words then just a token
  when cast out from the heart

Is judgment left unspoken
  with belief cut up in parts

Is direction now forbidden
  and all meaning thusly doomed

Is laughter all but hidden
  with its smile partly groomed

Is today beyond tomorrow
  and why replaced with how

Do the questions feign an answer
  indecision—your last vow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)

Do You Bore Yourself?

Do you rent the space
you’re standing in,
owning nothing in the end
but default?

Do you recycle words
until their utterance fails,
mistrusting your ability
to say what’s right?

Do you hedge your bets,
never going all in
for fear of losing the very thing
you haven’t got?

Do you count the days,
as tedium destroys spontaneity
and all energy drains
from your lifeless form?

Do You Bore Yourself?

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Has your violence
taken you to places
I’ve not been

Or driven you
to things
I’ve not seen

Was your soul
mired in conflict
once raised from the dead

Were your walls
built to fortify
excuses and blame

Have your choices
been forged by
damnation and fear

Did love matter at all
when it cried
through the pain

Could you still hear its voice
on those darkest
of nights

Were those places you
conquered
in tribute now ******

Did your victims
kneel down
their heads bowed in shame

Was mercy rejected
your mistress
defiled

Has your violence
taken you to places
I’ve not been

Or driven you
to things
I’ve not seen

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Has your violence
taken you to places
I’ve not been?

Or driven you
to things
I’ve not seen?

Was your soul
mired in conflict
once raised from the dead?

Were your walls
built to fortify
excuses and blame?

Have your choices
been forged by
damnation and fear?

Did love matter at all
when it cried
through the pain?

Could you still hear its voice
on those darkest
of nights?

Are those places you
conquered
in tribute now shamed?

Did your victims
kneel down
their heads bowed in defeat?

Was mercy rejected
your mistress
defiled?

Has your violence
taken you to places
I’ve not been?

Or driven you
to things
I’ve not seen?

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Never play checkers
with the world playing chess

Complexity knighted
—not more and not less

(Las Vegas: January, 2022)

What’s that you’ve settled for?
What’s that you say?
From the library of excuses
You reason away
It seems almost this
But never quite that
As the present escapes
And you look further back
No comfort to take
In that notch on your gun
As you fire in vain
And continue to run
But you say it’s enough
It will then have to do
You repeat what’s been spoken
Never anything new
And you look for a club
Others thinking the same
To plead their excuses
Blaspheme and profane
But alone in the vestibule
A soul fires away
And speaks about life
And its maxims today
His message reoffered
But again you look back
The last sinners you follow
Leaving motherless tracks
Your death now committed
To the lies that you’ve told
And your headstone engraved
With letters that scold
Once eternity beckoned
With your eyes looking up
And drawing strength from it
You drank from its cup
But that story’s been told
You’re alone in the ground
Scant little reminder
You were ever around
As your bones become dust
To be reclaimed by the wind
Those excuses you trusted
  —your original sin

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)

What’s that you’ve settled for
What’s that you say
From the library of excuses
You reason away
It seems almost this
But never quite that
As the present escapes
And you look further back
No comfort to take
In that notch on your gun
As you fire in vain
And continue to run
But you say it’s enough
It will then have to do
You repeat what’s been spoken
Never anything new
And you look for a club
Others thinking the same
To plead their excuses
Blaspheme and profane
But alone in the vestibule
A soul fires away
And speaks about life
And its maxims today
His message reoffered
But again you look back
The last sinners you follow
Leaving motherless tracks
Your life now committed
To the lies that you’ve told
And your headstone engraved
With letters that scold
Once eternity beckoned
With your eyes looking up
And drawing its strength
You drank from its cup
But that story’s been told
You’re alone in the ground
Scant little reminder
You were ever around
As your bones become dust
To be reclaimed by the wind
Those excuses you trusted
—your original sin

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)

Can you write in spite of comment,
  can your soul withstand the pain

Can you free those words hid deepest,
  can you shoulder all the blame

Can your heart and mind together,
  walk arm in arm as one

Can you take a breath once finished,
  knowing now,
  —your song has sung

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)

Can a phrase rule
  over a paragraph

Can the right word
  stand alone

Can a thought be held
  within one breath

Can the truth in short
  be known

Can you single out
  the future

Can you paraphrase
  the past

Can you connect a feeling
  to just one thought

Can you make this moment
  last

Can you keep the magic
  and release the trick

Can Apollo set you
  free

Can you say it while
defying time

Can you voice your souls
  release

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

Can a phrase rule
  over a paragraph

Can the right word
  stand alone

Can a thought be held
  within one breath

Can the truth in short
  be known

Can you single out
  the future

Can you paraphrase
  the past

Can you release the hope
  inside a wish

Can you make this moment
  last

Can you keep the magic,
  the spell unbound

Can Apollo set you
  free

Can you say it while
  defying time

Can you voice your souls
  release

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

Do you remember what you’ve written,
  can you elicit every thought

Does it stay within your memory,
  or escape to others sought

Is it linear or transcendent,
  on the page or in the wind

Can you still retain the title,
—to what your spirit freed within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

The words in the melody
  the words on the page

Related but different
  the Minstrel and Sage

The music recaptures
  what ink only starts

As harmony sings
  from an angelic heart

A phrase and a lyric
  as cousins relate

Too distant for brothers
  too close in their fate

One soul with two masters
  each fighting to gain

Your soul ever after
—your spirit to claim

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

I answered with love,
you questioned
with anger and pain

I held you close,
but your eyes
failed me again

I told you truly,
as my wishes
dropped to the floor

Your smile my captor,
my heart
  —your swinging door

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

Listen your way out of the problem,
  when language goes awry

Each word that’s heard, a fuse unlit,
  whose primer never lies

To think the pieces wholly,
  as new structure comes in view

With time and space in servitude
  —your voice explodes anew

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)

Like cement before it dries,
Like a promise before it’s kept,
Like words spoken,
—yet unfulfilled

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2013)

Instinct flashes
  past the speed of light

Intuition imploding
  Zephyrus’ delight

Detached from its fuel source
  tale on fire

The comets direction
  —reversed and inspired

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Just a broken poet,
  at an A.T.M.

His stomach cries out,
  words hunger within

The nights are the longest,
  cold darkens and chills

Fresh words on account,
  new credit distills

Pushing buttons while bent,
  with hope standing tall

An answer comes back,
  ‘Zero Funds To Withdraw’

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

Where words end
—-Zion begins

(Zion National Park: July, 2019)