Tink's ChapBlog ~ Tales of the Tribe. Mythopoeic Verse


The canyon walls
so do enthrall,
the heights are so impressive;
these canyons call
great wherewithals,
from man’s great flights of fancy.
On Sundays, bare,
there’s no one there;
yet, still it fels expressive.
A paper cup
that someone’s dropped
retains the single vestige
though ethereal –
an abstract of a past congressive.
These canyon walls
where rivers crawl,
on streets whose names are history.
Pedestrian crowds,
combustibles loud,
converge, and become concrescive.
From high to low,
and down below,
in quasi-temporal habitancy
the rich push wares,
the poor push theirs –
in vivacious forms of mordancy.
To stop and stare;
to become aware;
to take the time
to be just there,
elucidates and educates
and hearkens the heart to revere
these canyon walls –
so veridical,
it’s such that you must admire.


Copyright © 2011 Marvin…

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