~ Looking across the great San Juan Basin, where stands a Leviathan stone, a shock of rock that stands on its own; a story behind it, above it a dome. The people, Dineh, they call it a home; Dinétah, they say, the desert and dome. Time hath deposit the hulk of a stone: A bulk […] Continue reading
~ Who is this mater Who comes peripater? Who is the mother That touches our lives? Who is the mother, Seeking a daughter? Every year after, In spring she arrives – Full force, On course, She comes; Surprise! ~ Who is the mater, To come peripater? Who is the daughter…. Who touches our lives? ‘Tis […] Continue reading
~ By Sixty-Seven Things would be different. Enter the picture, Of marginal man. By Sixty-Eight It was too late, To ever go back There again. The difference, Appearance; A difference, Began. Many’s the moon, In the end. ~ Ed was a cousin, Ed was a friend; We never saw Edward Ever again. One decade long […] Continue reading
…. The Duke City’s known corruption, as shown Coronado, and his host of new men. The Old Ones knew too, the Wind as it blew the Sun West to East and then send into the darkness, the wile of the night, the room for a moon and the stars in to light and bring into […] Continue reading
…. Here then, a tale, as told by a Grannie, to the Grandson giving her hell. As this story goes, it’s really quite old – It arose from the dust, a cock-and-bull tale, and is just as such, of a poor Whip-Poor-Will: a fabliau, from New Mexico…. ~ “This much I know, when politics fail […] Continue reading
…. Here then, a tale as told by a Grannie, to the Grandson, giving her hell. As this story goes, it’s really quite old – It rose from the dust of New Mexico…. ~ This much I know, when politics fail – it falls upon most folks; it pales them most greatly. Failure qua Failure […] Continue reading
Tales of the Tribe http://wp.me/p102ON-E6 Synopsis: Society creates the stories it tells itself: factual, specious, apocryphal, dishonest; by any rendition, according to Wallace Stevens, will still be a fiction. Myth wears the clothes of its culture, will always be a social fact, and those who would eschew these basic facets of humanity, will prove […] Continue reading
An abstract journey through concrete Americana with a lagniappe through the “Great Discussion.” From serious humor to light-hearted gravitas, this is a trip you need to enjoy. Poetic postcards of Americana will be provided for. Our trip commences upon your arrival at Union Station, and continues until we arrive at a Paradigm Shift – […] Continue reading
the lawn looks lovely lovely and wet a valley bucolic comelier yet everything lovely as further you get as then when much closer you get what you vet ©2015, Marvin Welborn 28 July 2015
~ Sometimes I go out, my fly, wide open; most times, I won’t catch it, at all! ~ perhaps, it’s a stretch of old imagination, or hoping, it’s a Freudian Slip – not Fall. ~ But aging is different, by old and tired bodies; raging Young archetypes spring forth and then fall. ~ And a […] Continue reading
~ Who am I? What is my Purpose? What is the Meaning of Life? How should I know my Role in the Cosmos? Why do I have to die? What is this Love, and Sorrow and Laughter? What is this Yearning to Try? And why does it Turn, all that we Learn, Back, into Dust […] Continue reading
~ By its shapes, how it smells, and by looking to tell all the whats, wheres and whens to the senses, a poet survives by bringing alive all those thats, theres and thens to the pensées. And all, by deceit! Word-verbiage feat! Ah well. What the hell. What’s the metaphor for, but conceit. And you […] Continue reading
The leaves of the Maple have fallen by now. All but the few still linger, somehow. Glory! in colors – green, red and orange! I feel I should know them; I don’t, they are foreign. And something as strange as leaves from a tree: A metaphor, Maple, leaves, memory. I knew them only as they […] Continue reading
Thistle and Stone ~ Whistle to bone bristles the cold; it chisels old goslings from gander. This’ll bring home the old rolling Stone, and Thistles that roam far in wander. Vestigial in some the fossiling glum, to get up and run and meander. To wrestle with roam, to nestle at home, […] Continue reading
meta phorically – such a hard word – thinking can be tricky business. That glorious sun! erstwhile it runs would not be the same without Texas. Were this not so how would we know insane is the metaphor breaking. The state right next door makes Cajun decor a stage a mode a being. […] Continue reading
Tink's ChapBlog ~ Tales of the Tribe. Mythopoeic Verse 
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