~ I am so blind, I’ve lost my night vision. Each day Unto next I forget I’m used to familiar, The routine of head, Not close, But at most A close fit. And time, when it then comes, As time always will, It laughs when I ask it To stop and stand still. […] Continue reading
“Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were once As quick as foxes on the hill; ….Children, Still weaving budded aureoles, Will speak our speech and never know.” – Wallace Stevens, ‘A Postcard from the Volcano.’ ~ Farewell to the ocean, the California sun. Goodbye to great […] Continue reading
Tink's ChapBlog ~ Tales of the Tribe. Mythopoeic Verse 