All of life happens
—between the crest and the trough

(Molokai Hawaii: February, 1989)
‘Tribute To Duke Kahanamoku’

Like a telescope in focus,
  the words get sharp and clear

And magnify within the thought,
  a feeling oh so dear

Each letter worth a hundred times,
  what yesterday did know

New verse now burning laser bright,
—eternal in its glow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

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)

Seven dark prodigals approached in the night,
  saying: “One has escaped and
                  journeyed into the light”

Seven dark prodigals with shadows now gone,
  longed for he who had left them,
  —for he who was strong

Seven dark prodigals wandered the dark,
  no safety in numbers,
  in search of their heart

“We must look till he’s found,” I heard two of them say,
    seven sins unforgiven,
   —the eighth gone astray

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)

Can you be conscious
  without being self conscious,
  philosophers disagree

Being aware of your
  awareness,
  seems logical to me

But logic has its
  failings,
  as we pierce the inner mind

Perception,
  the most elusive ghost
   —and hardest to define

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

The Emperor walks naked,
with eyes all alone

To his subjects he panders,
his pride for a throne

His strut his true signature,
exposure supreme

Your opinion of no matter,
—as he colors you green

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)

A father teaches a son
  everything he knows . . .

Sometimes, it
  isn’t enough

Furrows plowing, seedlings
  dying, a daughter screams,

As young Johnny goes off
  to the city

A step-child of his
own desire

Wandering the avenues
  and alleyways

Searching high in the lights
  for his name

But only a shadow
comes down from the neon

Dark and invisible
   as he walks

A soul without
  acceptance

A new emptiness fills
  the hardened cracks,
  —and hallowing cement void

Where the stench of severed roots
and singed beginnings,
  —meet and die

And from 1000 miles
   a father walks in the darkness,
  —ancient and alone

Passing an empty bed
  in a dimly lit country hallway,
  —asking why

(Chicago Illinois: July, 1977)

Are you now denied all access
Has your ticket long been punched
Is your fear stuck in the alley
Intermezzo—out to lunch

Will you even see the picture
From the far end of the line
Would a curtain serve to raise your hopes
Can a loser ever shine

The doorman calls “It’s Showtime”
As the lights all start to dim
An usher cries “There’s One Seat Left”
You madly rush within

With eyes now strained in darkness
You find that one last chair
And on the stage, hope kisses fear,
—all encores yours to share

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Dying in anticipation,
  the morning never came

Rising out of sublimation
—the end begins again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

If you’re losing you’re winning,
  the path leads one way

The steps to the kingdom,
  a carpet of pain

If your will is unbroken,
  your commitment in stone

The ending assured
—as you sit on the throne

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

Do you avoid the give and take,
  are you afraid to cut the cake

With hope now gone, one wish is left,
  the present strong—all else bereft

Are you afraid of yes and no,
  to middle ground do you still go

The mountaintop calls out your name,
  excuses haunt your stock and trade

With time undone and glass half poured,
  your cup still empties, false reward

The end in sight, horizon plain,
  one last choice calls—your soul to gain

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

Get caught in the dialectic
  before the day is late

Don’t wait for an invitation
  as they slowly shut the gate

The wolf now dressed in spun wool
  has broken from his cage

He hungers more for what we’ve lost
  an ignorance of rage

A traitor lurks in front of us
  to vanquish and to quell

But time that stops for no one man
  the assassin pledged to hell

The moment to act upon us
  the odds both long and wide

A battle still worth fighting
    for those before who thought and died

So if truth’s your greatest weapon
  wield it willingly and free

The enemy is upon us
  —and must leave on bended knee

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

If there’s anything more dangerous
  than a terrorist
   —it’s a corrupt politician

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

Grandchildren
—life’s fountain of youth

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2018)

Do you eat your own cooking,
  do you live what you write

Do you enjoy your own company,
  do you dream well at night

When you look in the mirror,
  do you like what you see

Through the eyes of a child,
—is your heart then set free

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

I happen to be cast a
  different way

Molten like igneous
  stone

I live on the boundary,
  where others won’t play

At the edge of the scary
  unknown

The chess board on fire,
  as the Russian sage smiles

With the questions the same,
  only more

All answers now servant,
  as I step off the ledge

The fall better this time,
—than before

(Grantham New Hampshire: March, 2015)

We’ve redefined God
Into someone
Who fits
His image
Our vision
His vision
Inconvenient
Alongside things
That won’t let go
His message untimely
With bills to pay
And concrete goddesses
To which we pray
  “a tail never tried to wag
   a bigger dog”
As we chant inside the
False rapture
Of our own
Becoming
Hiding from the very
Light
That promises
—to show us the way

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

A prisoner of the truth
  sole inmate of denial

Serving time falsely promised
  —paroled in cold exile

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2014)

Thoughts carried to term,
  new words to instill

A message is born,
  an infant of will

Its father coarse logic,
  its mother the wind

Together they coupled,
  a marriage within

Their family heraldic,
  with pedigree firm

As libraries tremble,
  and sages relearn

All time on the table,
  last lie from the beast

This moment a knife,
  past—future the feast

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)