A late night deposit
from my spirit to my soul
A transfer without interest
all currency stole
The bank’s main door won’t open,
the drive-thru is dark
The side door unlocked
with the hallway unmarked
The clerk’s eyes on fire,
as she asks me my name
“It’s there on the check”
I repeat in refrain
“Your last transaction I see,
we’ll be losing you now
“This account to be closed
—take the elevator down”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Cream Always Rises
A people once censored
their limbs on the rack
All knowledge and freedom
under constant attack
But cream always rises,
and cows do come home
The truth never captive,
enchained—or then owned
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
In Virtue I Sin
It was Hemingway
early
And Dickinson
late
Those early
exposures
The trail of
my wake
No bar left
unvisited
Or brawl left
unfought
No school that could
answer
Dialectic
untaught
Now this corner
I sit in
Both welcomes
and warms
And the thoughts
it retriggers
No movement
just form
I once had
looked over
What I now look
within
From this chair
that I captain
Where in virtue
—I sin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Straddling The Flame
Over the fire
and across the coals
We made it to safety
our innocence tolled
The memory enough
to scare and profane
What fate never mentioned
—as we straddled the flame
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015
Listening To Clapton’s ‘Sunshine Of Your Love’
Fair Winds Ahead
The better the poet
the fuller the sails
—and the further the lines may stretch
The more ranging the verse
set to feeling’s unanchored
—the more chances of fair winds ahead
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)