• this watercourse

    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

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  • 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 sigh

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  • spades

    discomfiture worn like
    a tight timed test with
    each drowning breath
    slipping under regret

    there is already
    hell being paid in
    spades and forgotten
    fading memories
    coming undone
    a thread unspooling
    into the setting sun

    it is no less than
    everything deserved

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  • 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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  • 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 thorns

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  • 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…)
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  • 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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  • 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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  • 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 out
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  • bitter

    i will go
    back to
    those words
    i know or
    make up
    new ones
    wholesale
    who needs
    bitter lies
    anyway

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