Category: writing

  • only grey heron

    the rope mooring 
    frayed in the four
    twisting against
    the tugging flow
    until it broke
    some time ago
    my skiff following
    as the river goes
    only grey heron
    speaking in silence
    to be heard

  • all demolition

    leave me on empty
    at least i know there
    might be a tank yet to fill
    in this broke down
    wreck of car

    forget forget, we're
    all demolition here

  • cactus hand horses

    we cactus hand horses
    riding desert corridors
    on separate painted stone
    sixgunning peepshow
    between fingers unfold
    she rivers the between &
    we gallop two feet ford
    we cactus hand horses
    riding sunset corridors

  • taking pains

    blades bite thorn
    my hands, my skull
    my heart, my soul
    all wrapped in
    razor wire bone and
    scratched of fingernail
    pierced walled alone

  • casting runes — 10mar26

    sowilo
    snowflake but
    climbing up
    shadows slink
    to scheme away
    whiling until
    after the fall

    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.

  • Sunny Day Parasol Co. — Case File #8: Dredging Up Leads

    an episodic Vivian Locke noir

    Image generated by Gemini, with direction by Michael Raven

    This is a serialized story. Start with Case File #1 here.

    “So,” Cookie said, sliding a plate of fries onto the table. “You gonna tell me why a walking statue wants to turn you into a paperweight?”

    I grabbed the bottle of ketchup and gave the bottom a hard whack before remembering my burned fingers and it sent a nasty jolt of pain, a little deadly dagger that traced a line from my palm to my elbow. I considered asking Cookie to do the honors when I saw the cheap, red sludge escape its glass prison and splurt onto the chipped ceramic plate. A generous third of the bottle, enough to coat the next helping of grease without having to risk the razorblades of agony shredding my arm.

    (more…)

  • he fool calls

    he fool calls crow
    in pale wood, black stone
    he red calls ghost
    from the south to the north

    he road calls spirit
    to her medicine ride train
    he wing calls kindred
    to carry night skies again

  • casting runes — 09mar26

    hagalaz
    crack seed pellet
    crystal kissed
    side-step, slipstream
    burning on within

    weary of voices ghost

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

    Today’s rune is hagalaz, which has a core meaning of “hail”, which was associated with potential, transformation, renewal and change; hail is imagined a seed from which change will arise. Hagalaz is also seen as representative of things beyond our control: a clash between fire and ice.

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

  • Sunny Day Parasol Co. — Case File #7: Teeth Are Rent

    an episodic Vivian Locke noir

    Image generated by Gemini, with direction by Michael Raven

    This is a serialized story. Start with Case File #1 here.

    Gallow didn’t bother to try to grab me, he just extended the stasis field in my direction. As my rear foot left the parapet, the air in the middle of the alley thickened into a cold, invisible molasses. My momentum died a drawn-out, gasping death; its final rattle was the only fast thing about my rain-drenched descent. I wasn’t falling; I was drifting. My arc flattened out, the cafe’s rooftop now a cruel joke I was destined to miss. Instead, I was going to hang there, a suspended fool in the ceaseless drizzle, until the Foundry’s enforcer reached out and plucked me from the sky like a rotten apple from a tree.

    (more…)

  • brokework

    he mad dog barked at
    walls drawing down
    he jaw chomped hard
    at cage and at leash

    with hatpin hands
    and neck rust screech
    a brokework heart
    and tinsel teeth

    dragging behind loathing
    in razor wire, unsure
    which self to throw
    to mists from peak