The Devil's Fiddle (+2)

Signs that might be seen as omens

send me on my way

the daylight waning for today

and luck still virgin on display

flying close to danger’s coven

 

The wind blows fortune’s empty cast

as trackless dreams setout

dispelling hope and bringing doubt

without a name to even tout

caught within tomorrows fast

 

I see each warning clearly now

they speak much like a friend

whose words as tokens try to bend

rushing blindly toward the end

captured voices left to bow

 

Those signs that led me all point down

the road is changing fast

no clear distinction first from last

my future damned to be my past

— the devils fiddle calling loud

 

(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: February, 2024)

 

 

But Winners & Losers

 

I have no regard

for other poets

how could it be other

 

As they conscript

the words away

of which I’ve not discovered

 

A battle royal

zero sum

as phrases block and parry

 

The winner left

his voice reclaimed

— the loser most disparaged

 

(The New Room: February, 2024)

 

 

Beyond The Wind

 

Like a boy in the wild

raised by wolves

my poetry is sired

Tracking the scent

of each hunted word

traps set for me most dire

Uncaught or caged

by academia

my trail still honor bound

To wander freely

beyond the wind

— alone to stand my ground

 

(Ronald McDonald House: February, 2024)