Category: writing

  • stormriders

    Photo by Sina Bakhtiari on Unsplash
    when at wanders
    listen moon
    listen night
    crossroads gather
    feather swoon
    feather flight
    we are we are
    we are of
    stormriders
    tonight

  • blackwater

    of godless ways wandering
    between gallows gone to grey
    the rocky shore's blackwater
    framed in deadwood propped 
    in seaweed and broken oar
    waiting for the sluagh's arms
    to embrace a heart of coal
    the company of ravens and
    a host of crows waiting
                              waiting
                              waiting
               for snows to fall

  • fell and stone

    Photo by Sina Bakhtiari on Unsplash
    hands stained in alder
    scarlet against the driven snow
    this blood runs to stone
    scattered over the path of fells
    heather rimed in white
    her sun rimed in snow
    below and now she rises
    blood on fell and stone

  • roads and halls

    sage bundles in a pot for smudging
    Photo by Ginny Rose Stewart on Unsplash

    I walked the beaded hallways red with you and you did not see, not really. Yes yes that’s very beautiful you said as we walked not the beauty of buckskin and ruddy skin. You saw only the patterned beads.

    You did not hear the heartbeat drums causing the red hallways to thrum and pulse as you raced towards the light, making sure you could say you had experienced it all for yourself, but you did not hear, nor see.

    You did not feel their blood on your skin, nor the sweat, nor the tears. You said you knew it all, had read it in a book you couldn’t recall the title of, nor author. And you pulled me along, not letting me linger to “feel the feels”. You told me you would find the book in the library for me so I could feel.

    I reached for the medicine up in the night, but you bound me to prevent “my escape”.

    I spoke to ravens and stones.

    You just stared at me.

  • Market missing

    I miss the Market today.

    Pikes Market, Seattle
    Photo by Sabine Ojeil on Unsplash

    It would be closed by now, of course. But I would have skipped out of work early and spent the afternoon window shopping comics, trinkets, maybe some herbs or incense. Walk down to the pier, although it was a stranger the last time I walked there because of the missing viaduct.

    I’d buy a couple of börek to take back to the apartment, reheat for dinner, salad or quinoa with tahini dressing on the side. I was never a very good vegetarian back then — I couldn’t give up my cheese or butter, but I rarely ate meat when I could visit the Market. Honestly, I rarely ate at all.

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