
eye closed become fells
the pale and the grey
lichen and moss the taiga
blue, sage and stained
this grows home and stone
of a passing day, lost
etch me bone and twig
paint me undercloud
sway the cattails and
rain down

eye closed become fells
the pale and the grey
lichen and moss the taiga
blue, sage and stained
this grows home and stone
of a passing day, lost
etch me bone and twig
paint me undercloud
sway the cattails and
rain down

here, we stand in stillness.
cold still in beauty
stone against flurry
rimed eyes clear
we chill flames
burning too hot
here, we stand.
Another of my rune poems for a Elder Futhark rune selected at random. Today’s rune is isaz/isa, whose core meaning is “ice” and which secondary meanings are all those normally associated with ice: stillness, enchantment, beauty and, yes, stagnation, blockages and cold.
I was thinking recently about sceadugenga.com and the runes found there and decided that, rather than let the domain lapse into a WordPress.com variant when the hosting period is up at that site, I will transfer the domain to this host and continue to own the domain. I will likely reduce the content to just rune-related matters, but the annual fee is nominal for continuing to own the domain name. I will likely have to overhaul the pages to correct for some of the elements that don’t transfer over to non-WordPress-hosted variations of sites, but I should probably do that anyway to correct how some of my understanding has evolved over time (continuously). The decision to refer to the rune as isaz instead of isa is reflective of some of that change in understanding.

as we number by paints
a portrait yesterday lost
lift away the colors ocean
to etch sands into seas
she echoes facets in faces
mirrors song in her dream
i am many, they say
i am paper of lions
i am menagerie

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