back before the jading
i wore trust on my sleeve
heart portable,
to give away free
but that was
back before the jading
might i carve to whale
with the piling up
of so much green
had i the skill,
i might carve to whale
but time has drifted
and i, a drifter from dream
suspicious of dealers in jade
unlike those days
without whales
back before the jading
having slipped through the land
last night, here, through
this clay stuff found under feet
i wondered at my mouth
forgetting the words to speak
and realize we are blind
and none can hear
what i say in the anyway
including me.
so i gave over to falling
until i could fall no more
and sat unexpectant down
there in the below
waiting for the dark sun days
to call me back up, out
and forth, but only
if what is when might be
she walks in beauty
casting autumn in rime
with every step and pale
i have watched her
coming over hill and vale
learning to give to stone
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is isaz, which has a core meaning of “ice”. Ice is associated with beauty, stillness, stasis/preservation, the present moment and cold.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
she returned
my stolen knot wings broken
and gave me whale
mixed with trinkets and scorn
to prove that she was well
she is not well
i slipped my wings
gently back on
gave the whale
to my pocket
to contemplate
later on
slipping through door
in the wee soul hours
shuttered and locked behind
wayfaring the north road home
i star wanderdust
that medicine trail
waiting on wraiths
to wayfind me long
all pretty the horses
before their storm while
my striding of that
nightroam north
yesterdays and used to bes
have drifted back to dream
and even the old songs seem
out of tune to me...
nameless hours spent drifting
between queen and crow
or crow and queen but
it is really all the same to me
drumbeat your pale hands,
my chest
for that is all i want or need
at the drawing of dream
memory ghosts, my bride
at sentinel bone pale cliffs
standing over seasides
a knot twin tangled
to night crossed of moon
and apples adrift of air
long gone yet linger
perfumed raven of hair
shipping to shadow of morn
catching a song of you
cresting over wings in bloom...
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
paper tiger encouragements
feast on the ghosts of we
entangled in our entitlements
tethered by our broken dreams