Category: writing

  • windshouting

    broketooth me at
    fore of the storm
    windshouting with
    flint scrapeskinned
    fingers instead of words
    shrieking hoar at
    devils in suits

    eyetaken & ragblind
    stained of empty to hollow
    unsure if any can hear
    these ribbonrent screams

  • ossuary

    dry rot these bones mine
    stolen blind from the pile
    etched & inked in
    india & cinnabar to bleeding
    to carve away all dreaming
    to flint shave all song

    a withered heart on
    an ashen altar 
    waiting for a glint
    of flame

  • Masochism world

    Photo by Maxim Hopman on Unsplash

    There was a guy one of my tattooist used to regularly tattoo. It turned out his client was not getting inked, but just getting tattoos for the sensation they gave him.

    “Is he just a masochist,” I asked, having immediately decided it must be true.

    “Not really,” said the Brain, as his typo’d business card proclaimed. “He doesn’t much care for pain. I think he is actively trying to avoid pain.”

    “Explain,” I asked, befuddled, wincing as he hit the nerve bundle near my armpit. “Do you not use needles either?”

    The Brain frowned. “Of course I use needles. He’s getting a tattoo.” He held my bicep firm to prevent me from flinching and messing up his linework.

    “So… why no ink?” I said, taking a drag on my cigarette, for this was back when you could smoke while getting a tattoo.

    “He doesn’t want it to stick around more than scar tissue.”

    “So… Why get one at all if he doesn’t like ink?”

    “He says it makes his pain go away” said the Brain.

    “Riiiight,” was my incredulous response. “Oh-kay.”

    The Brain shrugged. “His business, I just follow his direction.”

    Welcome to masochism world, I thought to myself. Definitely a masochist.

    It is years later, arthritis and old injuries later. The Brain’s client was right. Pain washes the pain away.

    It’s too expensive and no one will agree to doing tattoos without ink anymore, however. They just nod and you can see it in their eyes: Welcome to masochism world.

  • casting runes — 31jan26

    ingwaz
    there are times
    all life is as dream
    with every line
    blurred between
    when all i want to do
    is sleep

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

    Today’s rune is ingwaz, a rune named after the god Ing or Freyr. It is representative of a channeled energy or transformational process. It is also be seen as the male component of life, and therefore a symbol of sexual passions and the contributed “seed” of life (and, therefore, an aspect of one’s ancestral ørlǫg, or fate/destiny). Some interpretations conceive the rune as a symbol of darkness, solitude or dreaming.

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

  • jigsaw daze

    my madness song at
    yellow paper tigers
    stretching from walls
    i arm claw trying
    to find a way out
    all the while
    grinding glass teeth
    & chewing at tinsel

    i have earned my way
    to straw dog state &
    mantic ghosts of that
    neverpast & nevermore, sing:
    shake shake shake dog shake

    an ugly break at mirrors
    in these jigsaw daze
    no one could know
    there would be
    so much
    blood