Category: writing

  • alkali

    thin sticks stacked
    for drifter design
    in this twilight world
    all glyph and glamour
    —howl now the wolves

    gun oil and smolder
    burning under the thick
    hammer crack, steel
    the flint for the sticks

    dream now
    in shift with the pale

  • casting runes — 15oct25

    tiwaz
    wearing knotted hounds
    around an arm
    used to mean something
    but it was not long
    before the world's hungry wolves
    gnawed until even those
    ideals were devoured away

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is tiwaz, which is named after the Norse god Týr, and the second weekday (Tuesday) is named for the god. According to Norse myth, Týr sacrifices his right hand to the wolf Fenrir, who bites it off when he realizes the gods have bound him. The rune is typically considered symbolic of honor, loyalty and justice, as well as of sacrifice. It may be representative of discipline and faith. Some interpretations have associated the rune with the North Star.

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

  • honey

    top view of bees putting honey
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
    she gushed candied lies
    something saccharine fierce
    living labyrinthine sweet but
    only fools fall for her
    promised treat

    empty hands & honey
    stolen child & treacle
    too sweet too sweet too sweet

  • Waiting for the interurban

    city street with cars during night time
    Photo by Josh Hild on Pexels.com

    The bus was running late, as usual. The only sensible thing to do in such conditions is to smoke a cigarette, as far as Paul was concerned. So he did.

    “I’ve run out of fucks to give,” he said, dropping a pinch of tobacco into the cigarette paper. He shifted the distribution of the tan, shredded leaf, pushing it to the edges of the paper. The amount was still unsatisfactory by whatever criteria he had, so another pinch was added shifted about until he was satisfied and his fingers started their practiced rolling to transform the package into a serviceable cigarette.

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  • Drip drop

    Photo by Roger Starnes Sr on Unsplash

    Drip drop, water in the well. She peers down between the moss stones and half-shadows to the water’s tenebrious surface casing ripples with each drop of dew gathering in the chill of the dark before it casts itself downward, a suicide plunge to rejoin the well of spirits gathered below.

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  • casting runes — 13oct25

    fehu
    for all our gaudy riches,
    longing is the incense
    which lingers after we wake

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is fehu, which has a core meaning of “cattle” or a more generalized “livestock”, which was a representation of personal wealth or earned prosperity. Sometimes luck played a role. Wealth and prosperity was valued, but was looked down upon when material accumulation appeared to be excessive, greedy, miserly or turned to hoarding, especially when those around you were lacking.

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

  • getting out

    Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

    I’ve decided that I need to get out into the real world and step away from my man cave in the basement more often. Although I am not much of a people-person, I have been feeling the need for face-to-face human interaction from people other than family members.

    Essentially, I’m looking to take a break from extreme isolation that has been the hallmark of my existence since I elected to sober up. Over the past 16 years, I’ve largely forgotten how to socialize, which is starting to wear a bit on my psyche.

    (more…)

  • horizon roads

    lizard tails and tail feathers
    our hearts lined in trees
    bloodstone inside and
    marching square toes
    in steel rings and bootblack
    down the horizon roads
    scented with burnout:
    come night, she sings

  • in the unbelonging

    we are all immigrants
    here, in the unbelonging
    all swarthy and sullied
    by drifter dust and road
    with bold farmers' tans
    and gravity frowns
    dragging us down

    we only wanted world
    nothing terribly profane—
    we only wanted love

    drag boot scrape shoe
    we shuffle the broken road
    heedless of the dreamless slumber
    where nightmare monsters wear
    faces we call neighbor

  • until the end of time

    i watched as the shallow boat
    carried two dead lovers
    into the mists and away
    to the place of apples at
    the hands of destiny's child
    wiping away tears,
    i bid them goodbye
    rest well
    rest well
    until the end of time