“we locked up Ben
just to hear his screams,”
is how the story began
once black type, now brown
on yellowed paper old
stuffed without ceremony
in a notepad more
jaundiced than the
paper it was printed on
nervous chuckles at that
with a put that aside
until braver days rise
maybe some misbegotten
future morn
or maybe not,
vaguely recalling
misdirectional intent behind
the phrase from before
but not tonight, no
as i enjoy the glow of
cds inventoried to store
lost weirds wording
mute mouth movement
i blind eye my fuzzy sight
waiting for fires to burn
your permission is
not my intention
your permission is
not my affliction
i break earth in lines
in my own damned time
nightsitting, waiting
giving over to my dross
'til she bare feet comes
never touching ground
never turning 'round, again
piercing pellets at endsummer
an unexpected assault
on brainpan and leaf
soon, grass will return green
to crickets waving a breeze
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.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
these lines
all penny smooth worn
and worth
by less than half
unpicked up as
the emptying lot
gives over to
that jazz jaundiced
sodium glow
manticmined i bury myself
in the understone covered
fís and mistformed flowing
scáthed, bran storied days
under feathered of white
rest now rest now
pale blind enters night
cut crimson rivers slow
hazel once at the evening
come oak slipped of the morn
i am her come at blackthorn
i am her come of snow
on drift gather snow
crows wind draw
singing to steel wire
humming on breeze
leaves painted frost
in a lonesome place far
waiting on gentle wings
come to on
drift gather snow
I travel long distances without leaving my home.
This is truth.
I pull the hood over my head, cover my eyes and I am back on the road, blacktop beneath my soles, blackthorn in my hand, tall pines doused in their pungent cologne, rising tall and casting everything shadow.
This is truth
Blacktop fades to gravel fades to black dirt stained grey and the birch draw closer, birds talking from the broad reeds, powder puff cattails and rushes green. Giving directions. Giving meaning.
This is truth.
Feeling gravities pull to gloaming space, I ramble on.
This is truth.
at rivers' crossing
she joins, shoulder riding light
silent as the fog around
no more words—
silence is the wisdom
of the day
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is ehwaz, which has a core meaning of “horse”. A horse is often associated with journeys, travel and movement. By extension, it also implies symbiosis with another living creature or fylgja, and the rune is associated with loyalty or trust.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
neverything coming waves
washing over my black sands
in the untethered paleness
of notnight aglow afar
and i undertow flow
back to the nine
back to chilled dreaming
as if unknown to wake
