In lands of lofty mountain peaks
God deftly weaves the Aspen trees
through evergreens, with spires high
in crisp, thin air over clear blue skies.
Upon His loom yellow leaves are spun
like fine gold threads until they’re done
a golden weave of shimmering shock
sunlight flashes through dark forest stock.
We who believe are like golden trees
where the light of Truth can be received
by those who wander in forests blind
unable to see the Truth defined.
From the Vine the Spirit spreads
through intricate roots, connecting threads
of hope and peace, from darkness to light
from sin to redemption and glory bright.
I quivered and I dropped my new phone,
who cares if it is shattered beyond repair.
Hot breath on my neck made me buckle,
your effort was completely unexpected.
Who cares if it is shattered beyond repair,
destruction may mend what is broken.
Pain is deftly subdued with skilled hands.
Hot breath on my neck made me buckle,
the tip of your tongue gained you access
to the words I needed to stay confidential.
Your effort was completely unexpected.
Forgive me all this cellular surrender,
I was starving for just a taste of tender.
Clandestine orchards perched upon the horts and whos so we'll make anew, the glowing fruit, is it purple or mewed pink, like colored sinks that sink the pink rose in the backyard pond for shallow eyes, that deftly see deepness and solidarity.
I heard
what you said
But not
what you meant
Your words
but a smokescreen
Belying
intent
Each one
deftly crafted
To lure
and delude
Anointing
your weakness
Blaspheming
— Saint Jude
(Chicago’s South Side: July, 2026)
RK: "I built a ship in a bottle under the sky, and it flew higher than that and into the eye"
Kate: "squirming beneath the fire are little coals these spark like candles that hold close the cold"
Lucifer: "I shall later digression when rolled up together billions deftly gather."
Aurora: "Intimidated by caressing is like fronting a storm that bubbly smile is the crescendo of lore"
Uraeal: "Invite the fellowship there is no sea, not for miles in fact will that splice these trees."
---End of act II---
A lantern’s light careens across the sea,
keeping pace it challenges the moonlight.
Tossed a bit of its awe-inspire to me,
illusions deftly pick pockets tonight.
What ifs vehemently showing themselves
send you right into that thirsty mirage.
Alternate version packed onto the shelves,
it’s forgotten. Why give it a massage?
You’ve electrified a spark in the dark,
so unfair not to leave all this dormant.
Running in the shadows is my trademark,
so peaceful there I can avoid this want.
With the dawn all of my uneasy dies,
I can see what IS here with sunlit eyes.
Alas, ‘tis a tire, a tire o’thy ire
Hilli-ho! Bless ye enlightenment so,
O wonder is glutinous’n glory
Ho! So deem thee glutinous whence basking’n this glory!
Some push, some pull, cutting so deftly with idle energy
Chirrup! Ho, chirrup! Dance, do prance anyhow, everyhow
Professing unlike the former, latter insignificant thoughts
Chirrup! Why, clear away!
F’why hath this matter so?
Gladly glaze the superstition that supper is but brief
Conduct thee here, pulsing, thriving, alive here so
Bold young brooding worrywart
Thwart ye worries, in excitement and ecstasy and boyish buoyancy
And in an unbroken light enlighten, ho!
Stream beneath thee, bequeath thy soul!
F’one shall bask in glutinous glory afterall!
Yo-ho! Resolve thee, t’be a bran-new barmy mare.
28//1//26
Carl’s frequently picking his nose
He's saving it, as does twin Rose
They now have a huge pile
Of dried snot, it's so vile
And daily their collection grows!
Their mother found the pile of snot
And deftly removed the whole lot
Carl cries, Rose starts bleating
"That snot was for eating"
Their mother does not care a jot!
My Song, it could not sing itself
And neither, friend, could I –
The notes they were – preoccupied
The lyrics lies, lies, lies
It struggled with a forlorn tune
With rhythms cadence-less –
Its chords were carried on the wind
Remote and powerless
From steeple tops it sought my ear
It strove for major scales,
Yet failed to lift this Chorister
– It sang to no avail
My voice was mute in silence
It was no song, no song
That I could ever sing along
– The song was wrong, all wrong
And so, I sought a newer verse
A Tune to fit myself
Without a tonal dissonance
Or timing out of step –
For harmony – I scored a Breeze
For words I fitted Truth –
The Tune a composition
An Opus could reboot
The cantos trebled at the strings
The lyrics crooned of Spring
Instinctively my voice arose
To meet this newer thing –
It rose, a Canta Libre
Familiar in refrain,
I felt a certain resonance
At recess in my brain
Advance in bright arrangements
And deftly play the strains
Of Anthems that I once had known
In glorious refrain
From sleeves of albums days gone by
Away on dusty shelves
And stirring now, My Song restored
As if it never left –
The thunderstorm has passed. A sparrow at the birdfeeder under the tree tilts its head, catching the morning sun, deftly snatching up a stray droplet as it is shaken loose by a breeze. The chicks are impatient for their feed.
twice rain
under the peppertree
stained slippers
life on Planet Earth
constant change to death from birth
defining the worth
a one time event
an existence much like rent
was such time well spent?
who and what are we
no trivial pursuit be
despite pedigrees
following all rules
of cultures, creeds, states and schools
leaves us useful tools
decrees which confound
class contradictions abound
vague questions resound
deftly inserting
words bent upon subverting
soon turn diverting
safety long has been
in knowing what lies within
defining of sin
anger can erupt
when greed fuels the corrupt
regret won't disrupt
while shrinking life’s scope
truth soon became power’s trope
belief defeats hope
change has run its course
when disconnected from source
of life giving force
existence is free
lies within state of what be
forms reality
How did my Truth become their Lie—
So deftly dressed—so fair—
It walked abroad in borrowed words
And found its welcome—there—
I spoke it plain—as Morning speaks
To fields that do not doubt—
Yet Echo chose another path
And turned my meaning—out—
They crowned it with a louder voice—
And called the Silence—mine—
As if the Sun were blameworthy
For shadows—at decline—
Truth did not change—its garment did—
A Mask—was all they knew—
I kept the Face—through winter’s test—
And waited—till—what’s True—was True—
Rising
by sin
falling
by virtue
Caught in the
blind spot
of destiny’s
rhyme
Words
overweight
in consonant
sorrow
Vowels
deftly stolen
inverting
— the time
(Cooke City Montana: August, 2025)
Softly, the sun shimmers with golden glimmers
as a sanguine sunset dances a marvelous minuet.
Past the time of twilight skies, another day slowly dies,
only to be reborn again on tomorrow's misty morn.
With the warmth of radiant rays, Sol deftly displays
Dawn's luminous light in place of celestial starlight.
CANINE KING
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was a dachshund extraordinaire,
a canine king with a luxurious coat most fair.
He ruled our neighborhood with nary a care,
his tail wagging wildly, his ears flapping in the air.
His little legs moved swiftly,
patrolling the streets quite deftly.
He sniffed and snuffled with a curious mind,
chasing the squirrels with harmless malign.
He barked at strangers with a fearless din,
growling and showing his teeth like a sharp mandolin.
He ruled the streets with an iron paw,
protecting and serving with his loving, doxie law.
He licked the faces of those he knew,
reigning gently while enjoying his doggie chews.
He was a master of mischief with his charming ways,
nudging with his nose, his way of begging you to stay.
His barks were music to my ears, his wags a delight,
dancing and prancing with a carefree spirit, light.
He was a dachshund extraordinaire,
a neighborhood hero and loving arbiter.
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