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‘Tis a lonely place to walk alone.
The trees are bare that winds have combed...

The bitter cold that numbs the skin.
An effigy of the pain within...

Snow has fallen tears have bled.
Frozen in time within one's head...

Heavy the soul and foot doth part.
Until the spring can warm one's heart...

Built from scraps of the past
Fastened together by screws
Made to love and be loved
Made possible by programmed heart
A beautiful maiden in metallic gray
A reflection of a lost love

She opens her eyes and silently
Caresses his face so warm yet weary
Then hugged him as she wiped his tears
The same reason that made him fall in love
Yet the same reason why something's missing

He can't bring back the dead and the past
Forever lost in the void, never to be seen
To live and move on, to carry on the present
He cried and cried harder than she wiped
As oil flows down her eyes
Brand new whisky dreams.
I know now why people drink.
To feel warmth and heat.
It dissipates into smoke.
A smooth defeated finish.
A tanka dedicated to my first experience with hard liquors - scotch whisky
the red wine stops fermenting
a young man turns to gray
the voice of truth and promise
leads one and all astray

he follows with a notion
of what may be ahead
that voice of truth and promise
has risen from the dead
Painting a black 
rainbow underneath 
a falling sky, it's mist 
consumes and eradicates 
your last breath, your 
last hope. 

They pour the drink 
you are forced to drink, 
and feed the flesh you 
are forced to eat. 

Taught to be stupid, and 
raised to be nothing, 
what's left to do, except 
make a noise so loud, fame 
will hear you. 

Your dreams will tell you what to do. 



Will your writing change when death comes to call,
knowing it’s time for goodbye

Will each word become richer, each memory dear,
in the limited by and by

As finality beckons, will conviction resolve,
each day meaning more than the last

Your faith shaken then stirred, all verses called back
—eternity’s epitaph

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2019)
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