~ 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
…. 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
…. ah silly Croci ‘tis you I espy on a corner somewhere near a tree under sky how much more of this winter the cold to defy? purple-plush petals stand firm deny the cold in the air the winter’s cold glare ~ there must be some mix up it’s too soon to show up single […] 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
~ I watched as my numbers tumbled and fell, out of potential, the actual devolve, down to the ground like the rain on a wall, there from the late stage where old age can tell a past, as if cast – an inviolable spell. ~ Had I only seen what I could have been…. Oh […] Continue reading
such a great loss, that of the family; of friends and heritage; the ancestral name. it ends in the loss, begins with a gain; the last, lone survivor, attains. not so much as by choice, but force, in the main: the force a prevailing wind. O! Ye Winds! Ye Winds of Change! so much is […] 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
~ Nine-Seven-Eight Sits on a corner, A city, a street, Somewhere. A high wooden fence Surrounds The grounds: A compound In semblance In air. Nine-Seven-Eight. No one seems home. But people Do live there, I swear! It’s quiet, Threadbare, And gone in the bone: Secret, Private, Alone. Three quarters A score Of years, Maybe more, […] Continue reading
a squirrel runs around first up and then down atop of an old wooden fence where not far below a dog is in tow the quick squirrel she wishes to mince it’s back to and fro these two will both go it’s seems like some kind of a dance a tangled web do these two […] Continue reading
~ The birds all fall in accolades, on mornings in Central Virginia. Colorful chorals that escalade – pro forma, concerti, eudaimonia. On and on, no stoppage the song, way long when morning’s forgotten. All in all, a sound, a funk; melodious risings, to mountains! I might hear Thelonius Monk. […] Continue reading
~ Those deep May days, someone will say, somewhere in Central Virginia: It’s the end of the month, where people will jump – Winter is gone from Virginia. And boys wearing flip-flops watch girls in their gym shorts take out their pups for short walks, from porches. And from such enclosures, […] Continue reading
~ a neighbor spends hours each day of the week shifting through flowers a garden she keeps and when days turn rainy the days dark and deep she goes deep inside but outside she weeps she can’t be with gardens in flowers she seeks but stays in her house where otherwise sleeps where neighbors are […] Continue reading
…. And now, I am done! I’m way past my Prime. Whatever was, happened – All now lost thru Time. All that which was given, striven, made mine – Time hath re-taken. Time takes its Time. Time, Great Time – Is this thy design? For […] Continue reading
~ The bearded ladies suddenly swoon and one by one, they break into bloom. And all, by mid-May days! The late ones in June. It’s then these late ladies come to subsume all the late babies of first spring, at noon. Then later, the one-eyed- Susans assume, by which time the ladies have lost all […] Continue reading
Tink's ChapBlog ~ Tales of the Tribe. Mythopoeic Verse 
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