Passing through its own reflection,
eternity is beauty
—and beauty is truth
(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)
The Anchor\'s Gone
Clear the decks
and set the helm
A storm approaches,
hatches closed
Drop the main
and raise the jib
The anchor’s gone
—our fate to sail
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2020)
The Prodigal
Today, I fed a horse still wild,
and asked him with my rhyme
To blaze the silver meteor’s trail,
to where the words collide
I filled him with one final verse,
to sharpen my refrain
And mounted for that one last ride
—to go back home again
(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)