these bones, some mine
under stone, turquoise skies
painted pale on my heart
some lingering...
we wraith ride
howl, our wind flag snaps
i believe in faith of love
just not this here, this time
memories, those wisps
slipping between the veil
Author: michael raven
those wisps
Todd Snider, RIP
Todd Snider, one of the very few alt-country singer-songwriters out there that I really appreciated (maybe because he was more folk than alt-country, but the powers that be declare him alt-country). has passed away overnight at 59 years of age, scant few years older than myself.
I first discovered Todd in the 90s when he debuted with one of the local radio stations playing a hidden track from the album, Talkin’ Seattle Grunge Rock Blues. As I had just recently moved back from Seattle at the time and had experienced “the grunge scene” in real time — although that was NOT my reason for moving there in the first place, the song’s comedy was not lost on me. Here’s a live version of the tune and, while I prefer the original, this one captures some of the crowds’ singalong elements.
I’ve been a fan ever since that day I first hear it.
Todd was an unconventional “alt-country” musician as he did more storytelling than singing the times I saw him live. Not that he would skimp on the music part, but there was a lot of talky stuff in-between, somewhere between wisdom and absurdity in most cases. And, while most country stars will trend towards conservative politics, Todd skewed more hippie than anything. I got to believe that he thought most of the culture wars out there were just plain dumb and he would satirize it when it suited his mood.
The music scene is less than it was for his passing. No, most of you never heard the man, but we were better off for his music.
Psst… Todd… You’re an alright guy.
casting runes — 14nov25
ansuz with back to trunk
he sings the tree
burrow-fingers the loam
with bone rap-trapping
rhythms in time with
an oncoming stormA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is ansuz, which has a core meaning “a god” (intended to be Odin), “mouth” or “breath”. Odin is representative of many, many things… in this case, ansuz is most representative of the mouth/breath (speech) that gives life to poetry, magic, song, language, and spirit — largely inseparable in the Viking worldview — and Odin is considered the supreme master of these intertwined concepts. By way of the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the rune is named æsc, which is translated to “ash”, a tree associated with Odin and is representative of resilience and strength.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
star to stone
lessons learned,
i fold up my life
tears and creases plenty
across a worn map
places to see through
the hills and vale
stuff it into my satchel
without ceremony
as i crush compass
underboot and follow
a star to stonecasting runes — 13nov25
raido tasting the breath
of a weary world exhaling
while sitting chilled on
an autumn slope behind
i may have gone vulpine
tonight in the
heart of the woodA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is raido, which has been translated as “ride” and the implied “journey”. This may be spatial and literal in practice (a physical journey), or it may be more figurative (an inner/shamanic journey, i.e., útiseta). The rune is associated with cyclic motion and the movement of the sun. Some consider the journey represented by raido to be that of returning.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
passings
brambling on briar inside
deadfall viscera brittle
under autumn's low sun
hoar on the rooftops pale
i think we are done here
just a few more beforeHalf-penny Thoughts — 13nov25
…something had happened to him in his late twenties that seemed to manoeuvre him away from other people, not just his friends, but from the normal course of human affairs. He’d begin to catch people exchanging glances whenever he spoke up in group situations; or they would be half smiling when he entered the offices and warehouses he worked in, but he never stayed for very long before he moved on to something else equally unsatisfactory. Invitations to join others lessened, then ceased before he was thirty-two. Only damaged and insecure women seemed to find comfort in his company, though they had little interest in him besides his being a confirming presence. By thirty-four he was lonely. Lonely. Genuinely.
…[U]nless he was talking to Hutch alone, his every attempt to start a conversation in the group had been treated like an ill-thought-out statement, or just ignored. No one even tried to pick up the threads he started. Most often there would be a silence and then the other three would fall back into whatever natural camaraderie they had rediscovered.
~ Adam Nevill, The Ritual: A Novel
Luke’s thoughts are relatable. Very much so.
(more…)my eye
not chasing butterflies i
not watching foxfire tonight
wisps, they drift the willow
and there i turn my eye
she wraps her pale in shadow
she wraps my heart in wire
tug with bone scarred ivory
wrapping shades through my eye
bit lip to raw and scarlet
bit neck to pierce the sighs
inking skin with stars and night
sending ink to black my eyecasting runes — 12nov25
eihwaz my spirit is shadow
flowing slow of evenfall river
where murky banks slip by
& all eyes turn away
while scarlet leaves
spin the eddies in-betweenA rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is eihwaz, it’s name meaning “yew”, is a rune of change and transformation. It represents the cycle of life/death/rebirth and is symbolic of the axis mundi (the world tree). The yew is envisioned as a path towards both the underworld and the heavenly realms. It is associated both with poison and protection as part of its perceived dual nature.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
dabbles — folk horror
Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash I was invited by Ted (shredbobted) to join his Discord group to workshop some short fiction for cross-promotion amongst the participants. I’m only now getting some free time and energy to explore some ideas; it’s been a busy time for me, or I have been worn out.
A few weeks ago, I cranked out an exploration into an old theme that I wanted to revisit, called “Drifter”. The idea was that there are a group of folks traveling in the “in-between” spaces and using dolmen as doors to try and find their homes back in realspace. After a week, I looked at the first thousand or so words I had written and realized that I’d left the tale completely without an anchor. To remedy that, I would probably have to at least write it as a novella, and more likely as a full novel — neither of which am I prepared to do at this time.
A few days ago, I started working on a different idea, with the explicit intention that it would have a solid anchor prior to getting weird. And the weirdness was going to be quite a bit more grounded in nature. I’m a little more satisfied with this effort after drumming up around 2500 words because it doesn’t feel quite so airy and disingenuous (in places).
(more…)
