Speaking to not one
but the multitudes,
the prophet raised his head
And serving up his gratitude,
the starving and hungry
were given bread
Starting again
his eyes looked up,
and through a plain white cloth he bled
While standing in the same spot
his father had,
and repeating those words he said…
“Don’t worship me,
Become yourself,
Divinity, yours at hand
“Wash their feet
And free your mind,
Bring peace throughout the land
“Thank not one,
But all you meet
For a soul no longer wracked
“And with each new breath
The Angels dance
—salvation looking back”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
The Wind
When emptiness
replaces memory
The wind
—forever ceases to blow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Maria
Our years are fated….
Maria’s allotment was short
But no less special,
Each minute becoming pregnant
With what time would not allow,
Each new hour
Becoming the measuring stick
Of what would never occur
In a bed and a room
Where only wishes and dreams
Last
To never grow into memories,
Fate would not permit
Her life to become less precious,
As the deceptive future
Steals tomorrow from today
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Eight Miles Left
With ten more miles of fence line
my horse wants to turn back
There’s storm clouds over the mountain
just a small tent in my sack
The fence line sits all busted
from two bulls that went astray
They both missed being neutered
last year on roundup day
My hands are cold and blistered
that salve jar all but gone
Two wolves begin to howling
that lonesome prairie song
The storm clouds now have thickened
light pulls its covers back
Just one more night on the western slope
—with eight miles left to track
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
A Forever Bite
Poet….
Lone Wolf of the spoken word
Crouching in darkness
—one verse in the herd
Stalking his prey
far into the night
Attacking with feeling
—that forever bites
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)