The Coming Wind (+3)

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)