I’m in the home stretch on this hard science-fiction novel of the peri-apocalypse and I think the biggest takeaway so far is…

I’m not the target audience for science-fiction novels of the peri-apocalypse, hard science or otherwise.
(more…)I’m in the home stretch on this hard science-fiction novel of the peri-apocalypse and I think the biggest takeaway so far is…

I’m not the target audience for science-fiction novels of the peri-apocalypse, hard science or otherwise.
(more…)this chronic river
flawing through
is a stoning earned
for the time cast
down drunk at
the wytching tree
there is no care
for these secrets
that might be shared
those left to die here
in the wee hours down
at the wytching tree

under the cloak
the patterns burn
all the more clear
slip to the well
and dive, emerge
in the lands
under the sea
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.
"throw your head away
and let branches replace
the empty left behind",
said the acorn man
so
we gathered round
and grew old,
apple blossoms
on the wind
I will drift the forest behind blind eyes with her, just as she came, here on the new moon this morn. A new year, come ten days on the loom, rides her night tresses too. Time to wrap root and gather low, gather deep, and gather below. Gather, then, and keen no more.
If you knew me, you would understand — but I stand alone, unknown. I am wing and I am thorn, that is the best I can explain.
But when she comes, we gather: wrapping root and pricking low.

as the nights slip
cauldron to stone
from wave to cold
we turn to the
turning within
spirits on the wander
gather 'round the flames
dancing, spinning, yearning
as they give to the
turning within
let all our debt burn away
as we turn to the
turning within
tossing the tethers, ropes
tying to dock and pier
letting current carry away
adrift and slipping away
spinning in eddies away
never wanting to arrive
never to, never arrive
our lady of crows
waits above the ford
will you bed her at river
should she bid you?
be she maiden or crone?
she waits on her lover,
our lady of crows
have you come to
collect waters issued of
our lady of crows?
to reap on the harvest,
as gifted bounty of
our lady of crows?
or have you come to
enjoin at frenzy and fury
of our lady of crows?
i wait on dreams
of her fountainhead,
at her narrows standing
flow her water, oak & ash
hazel & blackthorn sharp,
at her narrows standing
wait upon gold & rust
for rime & without reason,
at her narrows standing
long the night i belong
set to slumber underground,
at her narrows standing
Since deciding to take up reading at the end of August whenever I feel compelled to scroll on the internet, pick up a video game for distraction purposes, or give in to the statement, “I’m bored”, I’ve managed to knock out twelve books which amounts to what is just shy of 5000 pages, by Goodreads’ account. That includes an audiobook that I finished during that time (I include audiobooks as “reading”, because I largely listen to them while driving, and this one would only contribute about 300 pages to my total).
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