Organizing each word unpenned,
I gave myself to rhyme
And offered up my humble skills
in thankfulness sublime
Each one a treasure unto me,
with silence on the run
Verses promised and drifting near
—of memories to come
(The New Room: March, 2021)
To Each—His Own
I never chose to write like you,
it’s enough to write like me
My feelings live to shape each thought,
your passion foreign known
I need to use those gifts bequeathed,
while searching endlessly
And leave to you your native tongue
—and speak my words alone
(Dreamsleep: March, 2021)
Beatific Denial
Better to be in Hell
for all eternity,
than in Heaven
—on borrowed time
(Dreamsleep: March, 2021)
Nocturne Megahertz
The Poetry Channel when open,
its wavelength sharp and clear
Searching for me as it calls for my voice,
in moments dark but dear
The Poetry Channel if distant, remote,
streaming above my thoughts
Transmitting in silence, antenna to blame,
whose frequency I’ve sought
The Poetry Channel with static tuned out,
its bandwidth framed in gold
Quiet by day, amplifying at night
—to broadcast time untold
(Dreamsleep: November, 2015)