i'm not sure if
we managed to kiss
everywhere jopy tagged
his byline downtown but
we sure as hell tried
even there in the unsubway
with northern lights burning
out our heads with
drunken hands just trying
to hold on to the night
Category: writing
jopy
Photo by Paul Bill on Pexels.com feast
paper tiger encouragements
feast on the ghosts of we
entangled in our entitlements
tethered by our broken dreamsdown that back hall
Photo by Vladislav Nahorny on Pexels.com we are all piano fingers
now, tickling ivory hours
slipping to oblivion
down that back hall
dust mote whispers ears
in the golden autumn sun
twining fingers under shadow
down that back hall
the notes faded ivory
lace dusted yellowed
photo moments slip away
down that back hallat the center
Photo by Alberto Arroyo on Unsplash in the cauldron season
reconciling liminal me
standing bíle and center
both eyes to boiling sea
born of raven and apple
kin to the stone
thorn prick'd and blooded
given to bone
riding the crests,
sailing to homecoming home
Photo by Harald Pliessnig on Unsplash waves — lands — skies
center standing, i ash
holding to wights
& to wraiths
& to the very small
a headful of pastfall
hearth gathering
in the myrk & gloam
waiting for their coming
homeboundless
Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash let us go beyond naming and
enter the spirit of the matter—
tear down the fences that divide
this bone is not bone, it is bone
this flesh is not flesh, it is flesh
this stone stands beyond stone
wash away the scarlet boundaries
cast by the plough, hewn by scythe
listen to the small known by "night"fabric
Photo by Tengis Galamez on Unsplash needlethreading the dream
fragile in porcelain pale
stitching her fabric close
shift skies on the flint
slip steel on white
a twist, a turn, on veil
shadow scrim moving thin
shadow unmine, carry
beyond this windtorn coiltossing a rune — 27aug25
gebo "we sacrificed all the things we love
to get more of nothing"
cry the echoes of november in the empty
of this autumn head of mine—
gates dissolve by way of drifting snow
revealing the only thing that's realA rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is gebo, which has a core meaning of “gift”. This relates to all forms of reciprocity, transaction, generosity, hospitality and sacrifice (in the sense of giving up something).
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
that merry-go-round
Photo by Mihai Vlasceanu on Pexels.com clockwork broken and
stone etched bone
a heart stitched hazard
hands tick back that
merry-go-round
temptation in autumn comes
with pricking thumbs
and old man's hours
waiting for her ice to thaw
