For you
to be right
must I always
be wrong
Can’t our thoughts
live together
like the words
of a song
That plays and
surrounds us
without judgment
or blame
Relighting
the cosmos
with harmony’s
— flame
(Villanova University: March, 2026)
At the far end of the casket
his girlfriend hugged his wife
And told her she was sorry
that she tried to steal her life
Their tears then ran in unison
for a man who loved them both
The years they shared now testament
to a choice he left unspoke
They never met before this day
and would never meet again
But each knew well the other
and they almost felt like friends
The mistress left, the children wept
the grandkids played outside
His wife’s last words: “Your hell has passed
sleep well my love — goodbye”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
As people
buy willingly
into
new ‘comforts’
The few
and empowered
will dish out
the crumbs
A new wizard
lies hidden
his curtain
a hard drive
Entrapped
in their keyboards
young minds
unbecome
The facts
merely factoids
of digital
suasion
In fated
consensus
their Google search
lies
While deep in
their consciousness
a legacy’s
waiting
A meltdown
away
when the internet
— dies
(Villanova Student Chat: February, 2026)
The deeper you care
the more remote you become
What the present reveals
no clock can outrun
The past and the future
for others to know
This journey one-way
where detached you must go
Those voices who call
pull you deeper within
Not lost but alone
taking flight back to Him
As Jesus, The Buddha
and Crazy Horse knew
The path to true knowledge
doubt ridden and strewn
With the old voices silenced
new voices begin
As your eyes slowly close
— to their welcoming hymn
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)
Today a Poet needs to cast
a hook with many tines
To reel in those who’re lulled to sleep
with cautionary lines
These days a Poet needs an edge
much sharper than before
To cut through all the excess flesh
— and save the metaphor
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)
Intuition is to reason
as a black hole is to space
A cistern of discovery
— changing distance, time, and place
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2018)
Truth and Falsity
destiny’s twins
Living together
in virtue or sin
Credence once glorified
deceit left in flames
Redemption and virtue
the devil profanes
Verity trumps lies
by its very intent
Disclaiming its sibling
who still unrelents
Existence dependent
as prophecy deigns
In mutual exclusion
— like Abel to Cain
(Villanova University: November, 2025)
My eyes were diverted
my mind taken back
Her presence upon me
her breath an attack
There’s no sense in running
with no place to hide
Although rare in the daylight
her message alive
My pen comes out quickly
and drawn like a sword
Each word spoken plainly
and pointed toward
My life now a capsule
exploding like hail
Her light towing prescience
the comets new tail
Last phrases are written
my senses return
I feel her leave slowly
my pen it still burns
I look down at the page
to see what I wrote
The handwriting foreign
familiar once spoke
“Your life but a dream
between wisps of my breath
“Once spoken inside you
beyond life — and then death”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2018)
I’ve left it on rock ledges
elevators and bars
Taxicabs, backpacks
and motorcycles far
It sat on the Great Wall
as I walked away
And fell out of the raft
in Wyoming that day
It flew on the airplane
after I’d gotten off
Spending two days in Key West
Fedex as the cost
It’s kept me in touch
that’s important I know
But the voice it records into words
— much more so
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
My Cell Phone Voice Recorder
Those living in Harlem
want to move to Midtown
The people in Midtown
to the Upper West Side
The Upper West Side
to the Long Island Shore
The Long Island Shore
to Aspen or Vail
Aspen or Vail
to the Champs Elysees
The Champs Elysees
to the beaches in Cannes
People will search for where
life can begin
A place that remains distant
and far out of reach
An excuse to look outward
and not in themselves
Their souls left in turmoil
— their hearts not at rest
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
She wrote into my dreams
the first line of a nightmare
And I can no longer sleep
in fear of the next line
She ran away with all hope
that one line to haunt me
Each new second an hour
— in this prison called time
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Poets
don’t create
a thing
But
recreate
what is
Ordering
their
size and shape
In lines
bespoken
his
Poets
take what life
gives out
Then
changing
mass and form
In words
not used
their way before
With
feelings
— newly born
(Villanova University: November, 2025)
I came to your hospice
I came here to die
I came for my family
a final goodbye
I broke that one promise
I most wanted to keep
Alone on my mountain
no mourners to weep
The doctors and nurses
they prod and they poke
Their intentions most noble
my spirit on dope
In the night, strangers voices
call out my name
And act like they know me
new pawn in the game
If I had that one wish
still left unfulfilled
I would walk to the rim
of the Canyon so still
At dawn I would jump
with both arms open wide
Saying: Thank you Dear Lord
— for a wonderful ride
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Did you build that open portal …
one to leave upon
One that takes you back inside
one that plays your songs
Will your exit be an entry
to that place that waits within
Will tomorrow be the past in drag
— as you shed that final skin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Blues Poem #3
Living hard
the writing comes easy
Living easy
— the writing comes hard
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
The Greatest Harp
My pen is like a blues riff
not always on the note
I bend within the moment
new feelings reach for hope
A eulogy remastered
the fire that he fed
His Mojo dancing with the Muse
Marine Band his to wed
My words to stretch and vibrate
a blind man his to read
They move in tribute off the page
Sonny’s orphaned reeds
My hand they cease to follow
as letters wail and slide
While deep in South Chicago
— a harp long dead survives
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
‘Tribute To Sonny Boy Williamson 1’
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