
hallways wandering
puckish laughter and
you know i am a fool
for shadows and light
in play
but i tire of dead ends
with glamour and lure
bare wrists exposed
waiting for light’s knife
across aging skin

hallways wandering
puckish laughter and
you know i am a fool
for shadows and light
in play
but i tire of dead ends
with glamour and lure
bare wrists exposed
waiting for light’s knife
across aging skin

estranged of night
citrus rot, bitter nuts
no one trusts a scry
wipe away these eyes
fevered thrum pounding
a head song drumming
tongue void tasting
shadows on shadow veil
sacred in the fallow
winds sweep the stone
for rain

peeling back my birch paper
with the breath of the wind
what pussy willows sway grey
then?
clear water slipshifts of lake
to stream and i wonder
of where it wanders to fill
surrendering
to slate, feather, bone
peel off a piece of pale
and hold it as your own
a memento to my stone

Previously posted on sceadugenga.com on 18mar25. Reposted with audio.
going back to the real
hands smudged black
and dirt under nails
gravel yellow crush
i listen at forests for
wisdom crowing loud
leave to crowds where
crowds are wont to go
enough of deaf gods mute
i am not what they need
left to wending paths
through silent sentinels
gone to follow the call

standing grey
heron stone tall
can you carve the
shape of me?
can you carry the
weight of me?
slate skies over
of the under below
mouth to mouth
sends us to hum
mouth to mouth
cages winter sun
i fever weary
slaked in slick
slaked in foam
beyond threes of three
tide cold carry me
tide cold carry me home
Interestingly enough, the YouTube algorithm brought me back full circle on a music listening binge and decided that I probably had enough of that fancy and schmancy post-punk modern stuff in English and decided to point me back at something more along the lines of modern non-English folk with real instruments and minimal production on the overall sound.
Trigger warning: Song contains Northern European folk sounds that feel old enough to be tribal in essence. May contain ethnic instruments and little to no electronic music to sooth the transition.
Upon listening, I figured, who am I to argue with such a suggestion? Which brings me to Sonleikr’s Ulvetime. If you look at the song title with crossed eyes and think really hard to the Old Norse language course you started but never finished, you can pick out a translation: ulve (Danish) from ulfr (Old Norse) which obviously means “wolf”. And time (Danish) is equally obvious as “hour”.
I always knew you were clever.
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with flames burning
bright in his head
he wanders woodward
his wodewose embraced
in feather and bone and
of ash and of stone
he slips between
shadow and shade
that lailoken of lake
and of forests aglow
tangled christine &
soldiers marching tin
on shadows & smoke
with eyes casting stars
--how bright they are
a shower glittershines down
What compels a person to be mean just to be mean?
I am thinking of a couple of scenarios I’ve encountered lately, but when you dial back the vision and look at things 10k feet up in the sky, there seems to be a lot of mean-spirited shit going on at this time. Why?

I mean, people are getting off on someone else’s misery as our country goes off the rails. And it isn’t just my country where certain people are reveling in the miserly of other people… There’s evidence of it all over the place in this world, like 00s 4chan took over everyone’s sensibilities. People are obsessed with keeping score on who pwn’d who.
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