i have grown old these ways
yet still young rivers born
while i flow to their babble
cutting a current of my own
mine, this watercourse
winter sets bone
the bare branches
for winds let go
jipjipjip
old wren the freshfall
this watercourse
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this watercourse
wandering mere
star wires shining
in aftermath hours
singing green overhead
wandering mere
your taste on tongue
hand on heat in chill
washing over these
tombstone hours
hanging
black sands shift
witching away
with each sighTo like, click comments or:
wandering mere
Half-Penny Thoughts — 21aug26
Whether in relation to my own writing or to others’ writing, I am often surprised at the interpretations readers assign to the pieces in their comments.
In those moments, I cock my head off to the side like a confused puppy and even sometimes audibly utter, “Wot?”
That’s not to say anyone’s interpretations of anyone’s writings is wrong — because writing that invites individual interpretation is when writing is at its best. But I am trying to say that sometimes those interpretations come from a place I never imagined might exist.
Sometimes, that place in the comments is so far removed from what I imagined I wrote or read that I have to go back and see if we are referencing the same piece. And I am not always satisfied that the commentor and I are looking at the same thing, or are even in the same galaxy, let alone neighborhood.
So it goes.
My invitation to join a entirely and absolutely scientific discussion prompt for today is: Is this a wholly personal experience and am I the odd duck? Or it pretty much the norm from your experience? Bonus points: Do you disagree with my earlier statement, “Writing that invites individual interpretation is when writing is at its best”? Agree?
Please Note: Right now, the US is phasing out pennies in favor of nickels as the base measure of the dollar — “What could possibly go wrong with that idea?” they asked after declaring the penny ‘cancelled’; no more $1.99 deals, I expect — so you’ll need at least ten thoughts before that threshold is crossed.
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Half-Penny Thoughts — 21aug26
in the meanwhile
one day,
i will slip into the long sleep &
awaken in the october country
to the scent of crisp leaves with
a hint of hoar on the morn
that is where we will meet again
everything said & everything done,
forgiven
in the meanwhile,
you recall vestiges of voice &
i catch fragments of face &
each will look to old stone north
under a clatter of crows calling
"look to the east" or
"look to the west" to two
stubborn thornsTo like, click comments or:
in the meanwhile
Stooks Before Reeves [one]
“Mal,” said Man Rivers once time, gnawing on a tobac leaf like he always was as he wound up wire and pulled stake. “There come a time you have to accept you’re bein’ snookered.”
“Howdat?” I asked watching how he coiled the snare for used elsewhere.
Man shot an glance sidewise up to the steading. You could see that fatboy Lawson up the guardtower looking real hard like his attention was on something, anything, other than Man and me.
My eyes narrowed.
“I’m just sayin’ you need know when time’s come to find a new place to snare a bit of game. ‘Times there’s a fox waiting in the underbrush waiting for your snare to catch.”
(more…)To like, click comments or:
Stooks Before Reeves [one]
casting runes — 20aug26

othala at night the Old Ones are the only things real. they stand fireside silent, slow as stone waiting for Whiteoak to fall.
A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is othala, which has a core meaning of “heritage”, “inheritance” and “legacy”. These are all associated with home, kin, ancestors, stability and (in some interpretations) past lives or spiritual legacy.
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 — 20aug26
Weary dreams
I an beginning to wonder if it isn’t time to retire from the larger world.
“World weary” describes me perfectly.
Sometimes, I’d rather just close my eyes and not stop dreaming.
Point a finger… You, come with me if you want so we can write ourselves a dream. No? I don’t blame you. It’s not a very dreamy kind of dream anyway. It’s only a dream of cherry blossoms drifting on the water and coffee (or tea!) sipping as it dream drifts into other dreams while we talk to create those dreams and forget the things needing to be forgotten. How dull, you say.
The good news is that I may have forgotten some things already. In fact, it seems increasingly so each day as I try not to recall those things in the upstairs room. Here be monsters.
Let’s not dream those dreams. I don’t like them.
Instead, let’s dream of those things the world weary dream and draw pictures in autumn leaves.
Most of all, just let me sleep.
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Weary dreams
twin & out
mournful grey stands
ragged cliffs today
twin flint eyes
& ocean out
twin flint hearts
& ocean out
cut black sheets of
wave & skies meet
twin flint eyes
& ocean out
twin stone hearts
& ocean out
keen, rises she
keen, shards he
twin flint eyes
& ocean out
twin stone hearts
& ocean outTo like, click comments or:
twin & out

