Category: poetry

  • not this

    most of what matters
    is not this, said she
    turning out the lights 
    before slipping
    between the sheets

  • where things roam

    willowing and waiting
    that languishdrag on me
    cigarette slow and midnight
    long the cries i dream 
    gutwretch pull at seams
    hollow of hollows 
    a song burns low for
    stretch years alone
    in kissing of voids
    where dead things roam

  • fade away

    fade away fade away
    on the night's wings
    i cannot hear for
    all the mewling 
    at the tops of fences
    yowling for a dream

  • casting runes — 08oct26

    tiwaz
    nothing but rock &
lichen on steelsky fells
the first fallen flurries
kiss rime-crusted autumn
grass

seeking where we belong

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is tiwaz, which is named after the Norse god Týr, and the second weekday (Tuesday) is named for the god. According to Norse myth, Týr offers his right hand to the wolf Fenrir, who bites it off when he realizes the gods have used the offering to distract the wolf while they bind him. The rune is typically considered symbolic of honor, loyalty and justice, as well as of sacrifice. It may be representative of discipline and faith. Some interpretations have associated the rune with the North Star.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

  • strangelove days

    all strangelove days
    so it goes! so it goes!
    we cry as
    we ride the tiger down
    down down down
    to the ground
    whooping and laughing
    as  it all
    falls
    apart

  • carnivory; et tu?

    I have thought of dropping away

    A leaf in the blustery changefilled winds

    This is brown of me

    This is orange of me

    Sometime this is redpurple of me

    Come the gritdry eyes of air

    My flesh feeds of them

    Come

    Them tangled of me

  • hidden in the crowd

    a glance,
    hidden in the crowd
    you saw nothing
    i, everything
    i turned my face
    and let myself fade 
    away

  • old things, these

    slow touch the mirror
    broke silvered peeling
    stained memories
    grey to curl

    languish these hours
    waiting for a light
    to turn bare to glow
    swinging with
    bruised-wrist attics
    clotted in dust

  • too tired

    too tired for words
    fingers arthritic trees 
    winter bare grey in
    winter brambled winds
    too tired to
    touch at distance with
    only scars cut to red

  • drink, eat

    cover arms in scars
    of mind to flesh
    invisible me blind

    wrap eyes shadow
    to crow to sky
    all iron cast grey

    this hole lies fallen
    drink me, eat me
    alive