The Sculptor

“The Sculptor” March 30, 1997

 A sculptor I was to imagine

With hammer and chisel in place

I set out to copy your beauty

Your beauty I set out to trace

I settled my chisel to granite

Then deftly I modeled your face

With each chip and blow of my hammer

Rock yielded its eloquent grace

Then soundly I sculpted your figure

The granite removed upon row

Your beauty fell silent before me

Fell silent with each rushing blow

With darkness my work came to finish

My hammer lay down at day’s close

I sat to admire your beauty

Your beauty in granite now froze

I set out to copy your beauty

Your beauty now stood before me

Silent, immoveable, timeless

As your beauty has proven to be.




Darkness rushed down the cold mountains and seized the nestled town 

Like an angry nighttide, crashing long winded walls and short, sputtering chimneys 

Consuming massive, heavy stones with a tidal wave of pitch 

This dark horde heaves and surges brick and mortar 

Suffocating iron panes and heavy glass with burdens of black paint 

Engulfing wailing wolves and bleating sheep, drowning them as one 

I cannot distinguish one from the other… but I hear them 

The night absolves, washing all their sins quietly away 

Swirling down dirty drains 

Peeling dirt through street and sewer 

Like sickening gurgles 

Heard no more ‘till daylight break.


Night Time

“Night Time” February 3rd, 2015

And night lay across the land.

Sleepy towers, mourning their vacancies, rise and grasp stars

Tiny efforts, unnoticed by many, gather ‘round and sense me, 


Taking my hand they lead me through dimly lit halls, pasted with memories

Into a darkened room, where I gather my senses, and lay me down.

My mind is bathed in images, waxing forth from deep recess

Moments lost to time elapsed

I speak with friends long unseen

Judgments turned and won at last.

My body washed in splendor reign, nations stretch to hear my praise

And words to all this comfort bring.

Where we sleep all reign as kings.


Morning's Gentle Call

“Morning’s Gentle Call” March 10, 2018

I answered morning’s gentle call

Rose into daybreak’s light

Deny the night where slumber pass

And met with daylight’s fight

The onslaught hard upon me fell

Relentless in it's stay

I captured full aggression’s blow

For nothing barred the way

Foul the air contention fraught

This battle drawing near

My hands took on surrender’s pose

And charged my words with tears

But forfeit mercy’s lenient draw

Devote not pride this choice

My words there echoed empty halls

I stayed there in my voice

This campaign’s boast triumphant not

To senses deaf and blind

I bow my head to ruin’s call

And take the fault as mine.




He carried no substance, yet the impression was given that substance was replete.  

Yes, he wore the thin skin of someone possessing that thick quality. 

Tall, shoulders broad... vision such that he wore black, horn rimmed glasses.  

But what was implied as “substance,” was nothing more  than a disappointing appearance.  

You see, his brain lacked momentum.  

Decreasing. Dull and lackluster…

thoughts and processes dripped from this frail organ 

as cold molasses, slowly poured from the spigot of a chilled bottle.  

Painfully, it congeals, spools together, and slowly puddles grimy mud. 

This cold mass of a sickening, brown conglomeration...  

completing a sticky spill on a dirty floor, leaving traces of neglect

And blotches of discontent.


One Man Walks

“​One Man Walks”

One man walks a lonely road. 

Surrounded by the empty sky and beckoning palms, 

his journey takes but a few steps within a world 

of exploding leaps and bounds. 

He ponders his insignificance, and briefly slows his stride. 

He turns his head to view his path, the trail of prints he’s left behind. 

Regret wells within his heart… it’s nothing more than dust and earth. 


Want Not

“Want Not” January 24, 2015

 Want not a life of ease, for passive spirits lie in wait

Flagging, sleeping in the distance, procrastinating

Drowsy from inactivity

They fold their pale hands and wish for more

Craving hunger consumes a soul as fire begs the air

Death proceeds to take them all

The fire dies, and souls concede.