Vignoble d’hiver Long before the Roman legions marched Long before the Visigoths ruled with iron Long before the Moors galloped in Long before the Franks reconquered Long before the Catalan kingdom arose Long before the Cathar heretics burned Long before the French king whipped Spain Long before the Revolution changed the game Long before the... Continue Reading →
. . . can Spring be far behind? See clear light talking budding mimosa on rue Voltaire winter making us strong . Photograph by D Young. January 5, 2018 Verse by R Young
What’s the sign for hope? Hope may be the thing with feathers, But what white horse isn’t? As the world turns, We’ll see. . Photograph by D Young. St. Paul de Fenouillet, 2014. Text by R Young, December 29, 2017.
Air of Boxing Day, a Lost Ballad (Growing up in the Caribbean/Creole/Choctaw/Spanish/French culture of the lower Mississippi River, we did not learn of Boxing Day, a British thing, until a few years back when an English neighbor here in France invited us for the post-Xmas drinks, meal, country walk, drinks, pudding, parlor games, drinks. Somebody... Continue Reading →
Basilica do Bom Jesus Victor’s mission begins The dawn sun picks at the hilltop Shadows and silence in the valley Victor packs side saddles on his bike Makes the final check of supplies Three coils of rope: cotton, hemp, nylon Flares and spikes and entrenching tools Bicycle repair kit with extra screws and bolts and... Continue Reading →
Ballad of Old Flake News (unfinished), no. 1 Scars of civil war before 1963 An average of 12 cases a year Reported with a high of 34 in 1956 And no cases in 1954 or 1959 Starting in 1963 and coinciding with Our massive escalation the pla- Gue bacillus Also stepped up its efforts In... Continue Reading →
Ana & Tinman Assess Contingencies 1. Hardly a screech was there when Out walked our naked mother instinct Her river barges leaking petroleum She casting nets for contingencies. Being with Ana is like gargling salt water We had crossed humid evenings had we Striding damp-broiled fishy Sounds Ana fronting inked lines for dinner when Humid... Continue Reading →
Dark Sunday Last Walked up to the train station a relic nobody seems to know quite what to do with even the brave little playground goes to weed rust & decay solid enough to last one more day weeks even & years is this lasting a while its only reward? is it mine? I get... Continue Reading →