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)

Blank verse
And blanker memories
My mind shouts
As feelings cry
Blood drains
An artery cut
The seasons flowing
  —stain never to dry

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)

There’s comfort in knowing,
  things come and they go

The wind brings a newness,
  whether lilac or snow

There’s joy in all laughter,
   freely accrued

Music in words,
  spoken only by you

A place to be born,
  a moment to die

An ending beginning,
  last chance to decide

That question unasked,
  its answer unclaimed

Both orphans of joy
  … no adopted refrain

To sing from the rafters,
  an unfinished hymn
  
That angel before you,
   the angel within

Death’s only proffer
  …remembrance to lose

As the seasons recouple
  —your world again new

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

My days prolonged,
  my nights were short
   —my history caught between

Judgment coming
  fast and swift
  —to escape is then to dream

All time distorted
  memory fried
   —the past is but a whim

Old lessons spurned,
  the seasons turn
  —new forces pull within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

I most value today
  what I used to walk by

And stop to revisit
  what trailed from behind

Those moments once squandered
  when offered again

In joyous acceptance
  —I embrace from within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)

Your words can rise,
  or your words can fall

But a politically correct Poet
  —is no Poet at all

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Thinking more of your constituency
  than they do of themselves…
    —political suicide

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

When words **** the feeling,
  any pregnancy is wrong

Delivery most premature,
  verdict quick—sentence long

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Quantifying Art,
quality by the pound

Feelings like hair part,
—separation profound

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2015)

There’s a voice deep inside me
  still trying to get out

Ignoring my pleadings,
  it screams and it shouts

Its call is the loudest
  on those darkest of nights

When my mind seeks new refuge
  from Seraph’s delight

I toss and I turn,
  but it speaks louder still

As its words start to burn
  from new vision distilled

No barter or denial
  will turn back its call

The Muse is on fire
  —my pen not to stall

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

There’s a voice deep inside me
  still trying to get out

Ignoring my pleadings,
  it screams and it shouts

Its call is the loudest
  on those darkest of nights

When my mind seeks new refuge
  from Seraph’s delight

I toss and I turn,
  but it speaks louder still

As its words start to age
  from new vision distilled

No barter or denial
  will turn back its call

The Muse is on fire
  —my pen not to stall

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Poets,
Special Forces
Of the literary world

Rescuing confusion,
And then
Setting it free

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)

The emptiness between Hemingway’s words is a
  hollow sound that stays in your mind

The space creates distance as the Old Man wanted,
  from the reader and the ****** of pain

“Distance from the day he fought and struggled
   to land that one great fish

“Distance from a soldier’s final battle, calling out
   from beyond his reach

“Distance from the arena where the horns got close,
   with death again denied

“And distance from the many women he tried to
   desperately love and failed”

Each city his refuge: Paris, Havana, and Ketchum,
  but in no place were his memories home

And giving in to the distance, setting the ghost free
   —his bell tolled one last time

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Like a vase containing flowers,
  a writer becomes a vessel for words

Beyond seconds, minutes, and hours,
  displaying lines set to bloom in what’s heard

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

Shadows…
  of a former self

Shadows…
  of that no longer felt

Shadows…
  memories hide in sin

Shadows…
  the future-past within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2015)

Late September holds onto the summer
  like that promise you made
    —you can never forget

Late September holds onto the summer
  as shadows fall distant
    —and memory regrets

(Amherst Massachusetts- September, 2013)

Let others inside you
  as reflection begins

Your truth like a mirror
  that calls from within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)