Repeating on and on without changing,
the boredom settled in
Lost in endless repetition,
ten miles South of what might have been
A broken record skipping, skipping,
the groundhog’s prediction thin
Burrowing out the same old hole
—ten miles South of what might have been
(Dreamsleep: December, 2020)
Bread Of Life
Christians flock into their churches,
travelers hit the road
Searching for what’s beyond their view
in spirit overload
To leave behind the past imprisoned,
stilted and controlled
The blacktop chanting “come what may”
—a eucharistic whole
(Dreamsleep: December, 2020)