By J.J. Tindall
Black Tupelo
After W.H. Auden
Now is the winter.
I took you for granted,
Black tupelo,
Grand in the yard,
Grand in the parkway,
Grand in the autumn:
Posted on November 14, 2016
Chicagoetry: Down The South Branch Of The Mind
By J.J. Tindall
Down the South Branch of the Mind
Like anyone else
In a committed relationship,
Whenever I am offered a stark life-choice
With deep ramifications
I insist on being given time
To talk it over
With my mind.
Posted on October 24, 2016
Chicagoetry: My Emotional Shedd Aquarium
By J.J. Tindall
My Emotional Shedd Aquarium
So my heart
Is in a Beaux Arts Neo-Classical
Design, steel frame clad
In terra cotta brick
Posted on October 3, 2016
Chicagoetry: Houses Of The Holy
By J.J. Tindall
Houses of the Holy
It is difficult to get further outside of time
Than on a bike ride through a large, old cemetery.
My “local” is Forest Home in Forest Park
(Perhaps it is like the British pub system,
One has a “local”),
Where one can always find the rain.
Rain sings the best rain songs!
I know the Haymarket Memorial is here
Posted on September 1, 2016
Chicagoetry: Whirl
By J.J. Tindall
Whirl
What is a whirlwind?
They happen every day, somewhere.
The world, we know, whirls.
Rain whirls: a waterspout
Of converging rain and lake water whirled
Off Navy Pier as a front
Rolled in.
Posted on August 9, 2016
Chicagoetry: I Walked Into Rainbo
By J.J. Tindall
I Walked into Rainbo
I walked into Rainbo
I was naked, of course,
I was dreaming, of course, but
The place was packed and
I became naked (I
Didn’t walk in naked)
But I was suddenly naked so
What do you do?
Posted on July 20, 2016
Chicagoetry: Night Jets
By J.J. Tindall
NIGHT JETS
Then comes the white-hot shriek
Of the street jets,
The racing motorbikes
That tear up the expressways
In the middle of the night
In summer, when the windows
Are all open.
Posted on June 20, 2016
Chicagoetry: The Conversation
By J.J. Tindall
The Conversation
Two Hispanic teenagers sat behind me
On the train, talking about
Their schools: the honors programs,
The bullies, the sports, the opportunities.
I think they got on
At Western, on the southwest Blue Line.
My mind was all Gene Hackman
In “The Conversation,”
Honing in on the equivalent
Posted on May 24, 2016
Chicagoetry: Violets/Violence
By J.J. Tindall
Violets/Violence
A soft, suburban violet
Is a bride of quietness, foster-child
Of silence and slow time.
Buds, blooms and blossoms seem
Sudden every cycle: “Wait:
Winter isn’t forever?!”
Innocence is in this way
Renewed, and any young
Flower can be arresting.
Posted on May 2, 2016
Chicagoetry: Loon
By J.J. Tindall
Loon
Death lurks, not looming.
Breath is a fender
Protecting the works.
Breath
Is a boon, my beloved,
A watchful loon
On a slender heath
Offering no surrender,
Posted on April 11, 2016