Category: writing

  • casting runes — 25dec25

    sowilo
    her first fingers
    stretch, clutch at pale
    covered of night stained
    lapis & spangle

    i slumber for her coming
    & dream

    A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.

    Today’s rune is sowilo, the sun. Sowilo is the source of enlightenment, for lighting the way and illumination. It is also called the “icebreaker” and gives power to an “attack”, ensuring success and/or prosperity. This rune also represents hope, the light at the end of a long darkness.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

  • apartment landing

    heather grey stairstop sitting
    all elbows & knees & grinning

    sundanced & hair bright gold
    ten-twenty-one, crows gone counting

    a hungry & thirsty spring morning

  • a ghost in the machine

    all obfuscation & confuddle
    all illusion & unsubstantial
    a wraith, nothing more

    i must have died
    so long, long ago, now just
    a ghost in the machine

  • casting runes — 23dec25

    othala
    undercloak, reaching back
    to bones & stones
    through blood & black
    rime-eyed & cataract

    we razor high drifts
    highspaces we roam
    with gills on our tongues
    drinking burning skies &
    slipping closer to home

    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.

  • Kind

    I wonder whatever became of Kind. She drifted away like a mote on the wind one summers day, flitting here and there before in the distance she did fade, leaving neither full lips or ashen hair to guide the way to where she went on drift. Perhaps she burned away, like any dream does when the sun shines on something at such length — and so wan she was in the begin, that slim girl Kind. It was a wonder she had not been consumed years ago.

    I check balconies in the gloaming; I inspect the shadowtall oaks, gnarled in the their age. But Kind is no where and no when, our pale empress aloft on the wind. I miss our lady Kind, and the delirium euphoric that she did bring.

    And I wonder at where she took her drift.