poplar crowing at height
a city's dirty snow
stretched out below me
leaning into tumble
for but to pray to fly—
a ripsaw shredding harsh
songs against the grain
Category: writing
ripsaw
hollows
I am gnawing at black ice, waiting to become real while taking in all obsidian and injecting it in my veins. I would offer you a taste, but I can already see your shard eyes speak and say, “Oh, I had planned to offer you mine.” I would not want your generosity to go to waste. So I gnaw.
Sure sure, I’ll be paid in token for my taking — coin coming in kisses melting on the wind. Scant warmth, that. But enough heat for a haint, when we black ice gnaw the typic nights, I expect.
My twin blind eyes haze over when I look to the east. Hollows, I say to none… There is no Avalon.
Tom’s Studio Wren
I think I may have found a new obsession: sustainable pens.
photo: Tom’s Studio, https://tomsstudio.com Along with my conscious decision to stretch out my prose muscles in the coming months, I wanted to start developing an analogue note-taking/journaling habit (as it turns out, those muscles used for writing have atrophied as well, surprise surprise). In the early days of trying to move away from the keyboard to do some writing, I’ve discovered that my hands have lost all of their muscle tone when it comes to holding a stylus for any length of time.
(more…)casting runes — 12feb26
raido gentle rocking, creaking wain
twilight tints storm eyes
returning to lost highways
alone but for dense, winter fogA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is raido, which has been translated as “ride” and the implied “journey”. This may be spatial and literal in practice (a physical journey), or it may be more figurative (an inner/shamanic journey, i.e., útiseta). The rune is associated with cyclic motion and the movement of the sun. Some consider the journey represented by raido to be that of returning.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
Flash fiction prompt — 12feb26
Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash I am sharing flash fiction prompts generated by AI unless I don’t feel they are personally worth pursuing. Readers are welcome to try their hand at writing based on the prompts generated for this exercise, the goals of which are explained in this post.
Today’s prompt:
Subgenre: Appalachian Gothic / Cosmic Horror
Key Elements:
- A mine shaft that was sealed up fifty years ago but has started breathing.
- A family bible with names burned out rather than crossed out.
- The sound of a fiddle playing a song that has no end.
- A jar of moonshine that doesn’t reflect the light.
Optional Tone Constraint: The narrator must be unreliable.
(more…)On Forage
This piece is based on the flash fiction prompt posted yesterday and follows my personal guidelines as described in this post.
Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash Genre: Speculative fiction
Subgenre: Biopunk / Post-Apocalyptic
Seattle, South of Pioneer Square Station ruins; 73 years after The Fall
Kit Keyes could just see the daylight at the end of the tunnel from where she stood on the rusted, flaking remains of light rail tracks. There was not much sun to set the the end of the tunnel alight, as the perpetual twilight of the monsoons filtered out most of it before it even had a chance to get to the ground. It was pervasive gloom that came with the winter months around November and sometimes lasted until as late as May. She half-disbelieved the elders when they said that it had not always been this way; she had known nothing but the winter monsoons for her twenty years of age.
She watched for shadows in that twilight. Patrols regularly cleared out the tunnels of the dwindling population of raiders and ne’er-do-well types that tested the clan’s defenses on a perennial basis north of The Square, only to discover the defenses had only hardened since their last attempt. A few hundred meter south, on the other hand — that section had never been properly secured. Something about that open mouth bothered her this morning. She could not put her finger on what, something that bothered her more than the empty space itself.
It just so happened that south of the Square was some of the best fungus forage on the Line.
(more…)casting runes — 11feb26
laguz not only eddy
but river as well,
i meander her gardens
drinking in her scent
gathering sakura
with every twist & bendA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is laguz, which has a core meaning of “lake” and, by extension, may be interpreted as “river”, “ocean”, “sea”, “waterfall” or a general body of water. Some alternative interpretations define as “leek”. Following the more commonly accepted meaning, bodies of water were considered liminal spaces, a place between life and death or the threshold space between which spirit and substance resides. Laguz is often associated with feminine energies and journeys via water.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
horror story
the horror is not being in
the thrall of a leannán sídhe
the horror is being not in
the thrall of a leannán sídhe
wraith wanderings,
stoney moors on the
crisp & hollowStupid exposition…
Sometimes you have to know when to just give something a rest and a rethink.
I was merrily pounding on my keyboard a story for the flash fiction prompt I posted earlier, having quickly developed an idea earlier in the day — when I came to a sudden impasse.
Two things went wrong.
My imperfect memory of the geography of Seattle was partly to blame. The light rail system did not exist when I lived there and my planned story relied on several elements that were just not the reality of the situation on the ground. When I grew suspicious I checked out a few details and caught that flaw.
That was a hurdle I probably could have overcome. Just change assumptions to fit the real world geography and modify a few words here and there. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.
(more…)casting runes — 10feb25
mannaz we slip
sphere to sphere
time after time
touch to touch
while the wheel
keeps turning
i no longer can even
guess at the why...A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is mannaz, a rune that translates to “man” in the sense of “humankind”. The rune is associated with family and the social order, and in trusting the intuitive process or seeing clearly — both from within and from without. Mannaz influences relationships of all kinds, including those of a romantic nature, and encourages compassion, for oneself as well as for others.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
