Category: writing

Repost from sceadugenga.com
Part reminder that I have moved to the new site here, part flash fiction, I posted this over at sceadugenga this morning. I’m reposting the flash fiction section here in case you have already changed your followed site to this one and removed the old site. If you read it at the old site, you won’t find much of anything new here unless I end up mucking about and start playing editor. I hadn’t intended to write flash fiction when I started the post at the old site, but that’s how it ended up.
If you haven’t already noticed, the lights have gone up and the bartender is calling “last call” to make you get the message, as if the ambiance change was not indication enough.
“Last call! Last call!”
Someone nudges you and you look down at the resident drunk, Louie. “Hey man, can you buy me a drink, I’ll pay you back nex–“
“Last call!”
(more…)
28 Mar 25
Of Underways
They walk in underways, mirrored in us while raven laughs of treetops wending and above for all our blind eyes, all our deaf ears stopped up with the cotton of tomorrows never known. They lived in us once, too, and ache at our immaturity.
People think me mad to stare at unseen campfires while my bed is burning, making mumbles at the slow folk gathering ’round as they warm their bones against the steel nights cold. At least the stars shine bright below on frigid nights, along with mother moon pale down in the skies.
The madness is in ignoring the folk, not in engagement. As they say, the stone would tell if you just gave them space to share the tales. Rushing, most people are enthralled with the ghostly glow pouring from their hands to succumb to the rocks’ demands. They cannot balance their earth and their rivers, everflowing faster and going nowhere fast.
As I said, raven laughs, raven is the watchman, amused as we move in circles and never going anyplace — least of all fast. Dead, blind and stupid.
27 Mar 25

south lane

Image of a writing journal and a pencil. — Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash

these shadows on the moon
cast a face of yours in pale
throwing stars numbered
sharp, cutting and fallen
will we remain the unforgiven?

in one year or three
we will see if you walk
down south lane dreams
see if knots truly bind or
if unkindly ones give tell

the ocean's scent carries
even here

27 Mar 25

the fool

a path in the middle of a dark forest — *Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash*

finally, a step into tomorrow
i shook my head, no no no
we won't go back to those
we won't go back

for here is alone in the
beat of the drum of the
heart of the wood in the
dreaming of the years
now

shadowfall & the
autumn decay bursting
forth underboot scenting
my way home

26 Mar 25

burning inside

Campfire — Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash

burning inside and writhing
with their words spoken
during long ghost nights
carried in smoke on the wind
hey hey sang they hey hey
medicine for the longing within

passing white sage silver
on the circle all around
the pounding of our hearts
the bellows of our winds and
the burning inside and
the burning within

24 Mar 25

rivers wide

masks we ride rivers wide
banks staring blank, empty
ancestors begging forgiveness --
what have we done?

slipping night waters
at the edge of blood tides
moon mother moon
what have we done?

careless, that whispered jetty
rock dark, broken shore
still that heart's beating
what have we done?

24 Mar 25

we ever we

we ever we
on edge turning
forest child lost
her hands her
finger slips
over leaves
over wood

we ever we
can be can be
innocent songs
again—

she cuts she
shadows on wind
shadows on song
of
we ever we

23 Mar 25

hunger

shallow focus photography of blue dragonfly — *Photo by Marian Florinel Condruz on Pexels.com*

cattail & cagey
our home along
lily & rush
waiting at water
wind-lapped & sun
to drone summerlong
waiting on
a hunger gnawing
a hunger clawing
on the edge of day

22 Mar 25