A new century waits as the minutes
progress
into hours of vestibular begotten memory
My thoughts being counted although I
resist,
my feelings in service to what’s left behind
The sun and the moon trade in bartered
romance,
each jilting the other as day turns to night
Another year is recorded in the serpentine
past,
what’s seen a mirage—what’s measured retained
(The New Room: March, 2021)
To Thine Self
One opinion that matters,
its judgment vouchsafe
Where mountains have melted,
new rivers await
The merit for others,
but truth undenied
Beyond feeling and vision
—exists only I
(The New Room: March, 2021)
Graves Of Our Fathers
The Black Hills are crying,
our Mother forsaken
Enemy boot prints
where moccasins claim
To live just to die
in noble futility
All drums beat in silence
—He Sapa in shame
(Pine Ridge South Dakota: July, 2019)
In Poverty\'s Name
How do you lay off a writer…
unemployment assured
In labored obscurity,
his fortune unscored
How do you invest in a future
that’s devalued today
When checks never balance
—and words will not pay
(The New Room: March, 2021)
Adieu
The most important things don’t need a reason
—just because
The falling leaves beyond their season
—just because
The sun trades the night to the rising moon
—just because
The lateness that brings one last final adieu
—just because
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)