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This is the blog for the Bentari Project.

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How long will a thirst for a happier condition survive the tempests?

“The Revolt of Islam” is a poem that Percy Shelley wrote 200-years ago. The story is told in 12 Cantos. Dozens of Spenserian stanzas build each Canto. It’s a lot of verse—glorious to read for the patient romantic. The tale describes two lovers who inspire a revolt to expel a corrupt tyrant. The poet explains in his preface, “It is an experiment on ...

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The story sweeps across awareness. The plot bleeds out but in right time.

From Chapter XV of Honey in the Horn by H. L. Davis: “He dwelt on the fact almost proudly, as a man during a spell of cold weather does on the announcement that it is the coldest in eighty years. The line of fires down the valley, the strange wagons pulling in and being directed to their places in the line, the knowledge that this was no longer mer...

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Duck, duck, goose

Debra took some photos of a mallard pair who frequented the garden space by our patio wall. We saw them later along the river. We love birds and all the animal life around us here by the river. Living on the edge of enormous construction and humming commerce, we still have wildlife following ancient ways, struggling gracefully, surviving—mating. Th...

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Welcome to the club!

Steve’s footsteps and mine began intersecting in 2009. We were frequently members of the same audience enjoying poetry accompanied by jazz. Coincidence played a role, sure. But it was our similarities that funneled us into the same crowd, and now it binds us in proximal orbits, circling the sun in timely seasons. Strangers no more, these orbits are...

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You’ve forced them into the lead, and now they’re quite disarming.

We marched today and there was a difference. Change was in the air. That was it. It hit me with a sublime calmness. Held high above the signs, our flag made me feel innately proud. Today, the crowd, the cause and the unity was represented well by the Stars and Stripes. Our local youth gave urgent speeches. We saw a future well in hand, while marche...

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The most promise

I met Algernon Thaddeus Triton in 1959. He was 25—a bit past his prime but nonetheless fully fit and eager to host me in his expansive hall. His mansion rose high atop the escarpment where it seemingly overlooked the whole world. You will never find a more eager host or one who is more engaging and curious. It was widely known that Algernon preferr...

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“I couldn’t ask for better reading.” (A reader’s response to Bentari)

While reading Bentari , Jim sent me this message: “Praise goodness, I’m really enjoying your book. I really am. I just thought I’d let you know.” And a few days later, he added these kind words: “Tim, I finished your book. I just loved it. It’s just great. I couldn’t ask for better reading. Enjoyed every page. I enjoyed every second. You’re a great...

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In a very far land, not very far off...

Dad was born 95-years ago today in a house in NE Portland. His family was of the working class and they moved around a lot. They lived in the Rose City neighborhood, where Dad started school. He missed most of his 1 st grade year after coming down with the whooping cough, so he was pushed back a half-year. This would prove providential for me. Then...

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“They clap all over the world when you dance with me.” Robert Briggs, 2014

In her latest book, Wife, Just Let Go: Zen, Alzheimer’s , and Love , [1] Diana Saltoon [2] shares a difficult path. Each step did not land on a flat stone. Far from it. But each step was taken slowly and thoughtfully with hopes of holding on. There was a great deal of love to keep, you see, but the Alzheimer’s diagnosis for her husband Robert Brigg...

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While trees connect and soil waits

river and rainbow surround flowing traffic on a busy freeway while trees connect and soil waits birds forage and sing and nest Image: Willamette River flowing north between the Marquam Bridge and the Hawthorne...

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