Keep your words close,
—but the silence closer

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)

Deifying themselves,
  the scientists disprove
  with their tools
  the existence of God

To sit on a throne
  artificially made
  the Creator to them
  falsely shod

They loudly decry
  as their courtiers boast
  about how powerful
  their laws have become

While built into their structure
  a flaw starts to crack
  their self-glory
  —a darkening sun

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

The wandering Poet,
  so wild—so free

With each mile walked,
  a new reverie

Eight Muses to guide him,
  his steps fall in line

Their prophecy calling,
  their message sublime

The wandering Poet,
  won’t stop till he’s done

All motion incessant,
  all verse zero-sum

His trail can be seen,
  by those willing to climb

Their destiny’s marked,
—their pasts left behind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

While not belonging anywhere,
  beholden then to none

I spread me seeds upon the land,
  I let my spirit run

I cast my lot into the air,
  direction fate be known

And far beyond prevailing winds,
—my heart now rests atoned

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

I hide in the shadow
  of another’s fear
  so the voice may go away

And then left
  inside an orphan’s silence
  to recount every wordless day

To walk a path
  that another breaks
  under a dark forbidden sky

Crying those tears
  by another made
    —my pen bereft and dry

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

On summer days, we played in fields,
and hid from him in the cover of big trees

In winter, distance forced him into
silence

Spring brought us the promise of fresh captivity,
and the protection of a wish

But in the fall, when our sheets could feel the mocking of
his laughter

We listened, to something only you could
hear

You smiled at me, as I tried to guard the bed against
my fear and hold you tightly against my chest

—but by morning you were gone

And as I lay beside your still and quiet body, feeling the coldness
of your disappearing shadow

I thank the trees, the distance, and the spring’s promise,
—for once loving you and I

(West Philadelphia: November, 1972)

This world an
  illusion

All faith to
  forbear

A friend of mine
  struggles

Whose spirit I
  share

I feel him inside
  me

He calls out my
  name

His friendship a
  blessing

Augustus,
—I pray

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

What is the difference
  between a fact and the truth

One limited in time,
  the other free and unproved

Language and formula,
  the great deceivers abound

As the light burns inside us
  —our hearts to impound

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

The inside looking out,
   the outside looking in

Two sides of the same mirror,
—reality a twin

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

I hitchhiked up to Limbo
  to await that final toll

But lost my way when Siren’s called
  which led me to the shoals

My thumb went back inside my palm,
  their voices soft and low

No closer to those pearly gates
—this darkened undertow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

If you knew the words were killing you,
  would you choose then not to write

Would more calendar days still left to live
  make up for the darkness and blight

Would the time by days now measured
  equal those countless moments untimed

Would you die then forever—and over again
  or just once in an ending that rhymed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

Time not only seems to be speeding up…
  it actually is

Perception trumping reality looking forward,
  not looking back

Undercooked moments blow into the future,
  their aroma unsettling

As tomorrow disowns today
   —lamenting the past

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)

When is ‘Almost Good Enough’
  never good enough?

When is ‘Clearly Not Enough’
  an ounce more than enough?

When is ‘Almost What You Need’
  the most you’ll ever have?

When is ‘It’s Not Only That’
  the only thing that’s left?

When is ‘In Almost Every Case’
  not in any case at all?

When is ‘In Lieu Of Everything Else’
  the thing sure to be missed?

When is ‘In Actuality’
  in real terms actually not?

When is ‘To Be Perfectly Honest With You’
  the biggest lie you’ll hear?

When is the serious ‘Last Ditch Effort’
  the one you continue to try?

When is the ‘Absolute Final Time’
  the one you repeat again?

When is ‘Really’ not real at all
  and spoken then in vain?

When is ‘Probably’ not probable
   or even close to that?

When is the phrase ‘The Bottom Line’
  the top of your agenda?

When is the trusted ‘Old College Try’
  strictly out of school?

When is ‘Painstakingly Difficult’
  the easiest thing you do?

When is ‘No Sweat—The Deal Is Done’
  so much harder than before?

When is ‘Let’s Start At The Beginning’
  the end of the debate?

When is ‘The Last Word On The Matter’
  the beginning of what comes next?

When is ‘So What’ a euphemism
  for the most important things you do?

When is ‘It Is What It Is’
  categorically not, and never will be?

When is ‘The Bull In The China Shop’
  ceramic and for sale?

When is the celebratory ‘Victory Lap’
  the one taken in disgust?

When is the magical ‘Three Point Shot’
   four points more than its worth?

When is the special ‘Love You Lost’
  the only one you’ve never found?

When is the figurative ‘Bird In Hand’
  the one that flies away?

When is ‘Bantering Back And Forth’
  the silence you extol?

When will your words line with copper wire
  to conduct the truth unrobbed

When will you cease to pander and mislead
   —naked before the mob

  
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Is heaven where you live out
  your dreams

Those fond wishes life never
  allowed

Is eternity that place
  not yet seen

Where you awaken
—a high flying cloud

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

The floodgates are open,
   the waters rush forth

New words have been spoken,
— their meaning on course

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)