‘Tis not to regret our idle hours
Those busy days passed without event
The holy verse trampled sense

Until the beginning of poetry
When all wit came alive and went
To muses that confessed
To reach the nobler side of men
And search for purity of the heart
And praise the World’s secrets

Not for happy free-will but
To share Nature’s love a while yet
‘Tis not to indulge in the evasive Soul

But to drape the unknown with quiet looks
And words that may have preferred silence
I like too much to sing, without notes
Of how the music sounds in melodies
Of poetry’s sweetest epiphanies!

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You might as well wave to
Fire and Flower, to sun and alter
The passing dazzle of seasons
Well, the years are catching up with you
Time is shooting star-petals across
Your mind’s eye, secure for
A Diamond stare, astounding generations
There is no slowing of progress
An artificial intelligence permutes
The feel of the future, so –
Will we organics one day be
Fuel to the legends of the extinct?
Must not all creatures one day perish?
You might as well wave to
Ocean and Paradigm, to the world
We leave behind is already gone
Life well, it changed you in a heartbeat
With an orange core, you have
Overtaken the memory of yourself.



These metaphors they are not me
These Syllables they are not I
A poor representation of my last wishes
A silly image of my mind’s eye
Language she, is a ponderous house
Of education and culture
Speak loving words to me then!
That has nothing to do with guilt
Or anything of the disorder of the world
Dress her in innocence and heretic
Simplicity, not seeking profit
But only durable as a final
Translation of the spirit
That Reincarnates with every generation
Enlisted in the fantasy of
Immortality, I hear her charitable words
There, as the silver dew of every
New morning, as the sister-star’s breath
Of every new millennia, where
We ask the same questions
Until we forget to ask questions
Or do not care any longer for the replies
Of the feeling of our neuroplasticity.



To his house the dreamers
Come to barter endlessly
He builds his mask of Utopia
Waiting for a better world
For right conditions, for images
Of Light and Air, something
To substantiate claims of the existence
Of Divinity, more than Angels
Or the world’s eclipse of signs
To his mind he summons
The Fortunes of Faith, however
They may be, Points of Eden
Towards a Dawn in those eyes
Whose color is of the future
A soldier of life who would not fight
But create, make art, thrive on
Invisible food fostered by simplicity.