dead souls, we
wraith through
tall naked trees
under winter iron
to our cold fires
waiting
someone whispers
the name you wore
before you were born
perhaps, even,
it was i
recall, rejoin these
dead souls, we
that may seek again
as we wraith through
winter's tall naked
trees
Category: poetry
tall naked trees
listen
listen:
were it that you could
hear these bones
being etched in
scrimshaw behind
my age-cured flesh
what might you see
if you could hear?
a great horned owl
scrying mantic in
the deepening night?
peat bog perfume
rising from what shadows
are left to remain?
what peels bark
behind blackthorn?
i gather flint
in scarred hands
along with ash and
charcoal black
to scratch louder
runes anewthe hanging man
it is passing strange
how a turn of word
tugs at puppet strings
whereas an elegant mask
might only hang
it is always the
whispered words
with the most draw
as we dance at
the edge of a tether
aching for moremortal tethers
tonight, i give over
surrender to loam & peat
let mycelium feed while
slumbering between
bile & bog, briar & weed
betwixt both thorn & stone
slipping deeper,
even mortal tethers
may breaknothings
everything given
under foxfire & green
to bramble gate thorns
into the ghost of me
leaving behind Nothing
no longer even dreamevermore
'could i, a slip between cracks
would i find to the narrows'
'go sleeping on those hills,'
she suggested, offered, obliged
the moorlands her finger drew
'lichened stone to rest a head;
a blanket of peat to cover you
and heather to tincture your sleep'
i did as bid, grew antlers thorned
as i slumber a top that tor
i fell betwixt place and moor
having given self to evermorecall in Storm
feral you, on petite, lithe and narrow
dancing on the edge of betweens
with stolen kisses on slender promise
while others argue, deaf to your muse
bound within the must and dust of
parchment giants lining every room
a wink, a smile, and a theft once more
then,
we raise twin hands, call in Stormthree o’clock moon
she ghosted me through
with otherside push
and we danced
how we danced
all bone and lithe
under the three o'clock
moon
dead man's bells singing
as she fell to arms weeping
laughter staining corners
of eyes
"what will you do?
what do you say?"
"yes, i agree," replied i
and slept on the mound
given myself over...bog bodies
why phantom chasing
through time's forest mists --
an echoed tether stretched taut?
hush now, and forget
the voices are will o' wisps
drawing to thorny bramble
tangled in foxfire's decay
leave those bog bodies to lay
reunions come soon enoughcautionary tales
if my curses frighten
it is only because
they are wellearned
cast a bit of salt
and hold your poppet
close and tight tonight
morning will surely come
as it must, mustn't it?
oh, my lovey love...