• Where’s the prose?

    michael raven

    Okay, I’ll admit. I’m still working on the prompt from 12 February, and it might not be done until tomorrow. And, I’ll probably break my target limit for length on this one. You can’t win them all.

    Unlike most of the prompts that I’ve worked on that feel like they fit nicely into the <2000 word limit, this one feels like it needs to breathe and be allowed more space to be told. I don’t think I’ll exceed 3000 words, but it may get to that if I need to. Three hours of brainstorming and researching elements of the story and two hours into writing, I am 1600 words into it. I think this feels beefier than the other tales because it fits into my wheelhouse a little better. Appalachian Gothic vibes very close to the pulp horror that I’ve always found to be a big influence in my writing (when not swooning over Kafka or Salinger). This story has more elements of the atmospheric to it, which take up more space.

    I’m still plugging away and hope to have something posted by tomorrow (at the latest), earlier if possible.

    But now, I need coffee and to start making dinner soon.

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    Where’s the prose?

  • hidden

    michael raven 

    they write your name on a cup
    then the cup is crushed, discarded
    in another gesture to a refuse kind of day

    hiding behind closed doors with
    all feathers turned to vane, whispering
    wishes breathlessly to the dim

    they will not know these ever for
    love lies bleeding in the snow
    rapiers quivering, too late for regrets

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  • poppet on barbed wire

    michael raven 

    come to me on wraith of wind
    come ancient through the wood
    poppet strung on barbed wire
    catch rag on bone, you should...

    sing song the barley wine
    kiss her a'fore the ruddy dawn
    poppet strung on barbed wire
    carve her stitched mouth drawn

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  • casting runes — 13feb26

    michael raven

    tiwaz
    standing as stone
    my blood waters earth while
    ink-stained fingers smudge
    the performative lies smeared
    crimson across the page

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is tiwaz, which is named after the Norse god Týr, and the second weekday (Tuesday) is named for the god. According to Norse myth, Týr offers his right hand to the wolf Fenrir, who bites it off when he realizes the gods have used the offering to distract the wolf while they bind him. The rune is typically considered symbolic of honor, loyalty and justice, as well as of sacrifice. It may be representative of discipline and faith. Some interpretations have associated the rune with the North Star.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

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    casting runes — 13feb26

  • ripsaw

    michael raven 

    poplar crowing at height
    a city's dirty snow
    stretched out below me
    leaning into tumble
    for but to pray to fly—
    a ripsaw shredding harsh
    songs against the grain

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    ripsaw