i suppose that sometimes
a dream is only a dream
but these always lean
towards rude awakenings
Category: poetry
holiday
Photo by Stephane Gagnon on Unsplash overdone & unmoored
sent adrift & becalmed
uncertain of standing
or taken sitting down
wondering what was
done to deserve these
days
you're due for holiday
they say, but where do you go
when even going away
makes you feel like this
on these daysher waters flow
under burning skies
and
echoes in between
wander as shuffle
grow at weary
aching for a fall
to wash hands in
her waters flowaxis;
Photo by Tengis Galamez on Unsplash we all a whorl
turning in & out
labyrinthine & fell
for the internal
shadowed twists
allowing for hel in our
heart bone hearts
can you see your teeth?
we lay down there
at the wytching tree
buried of her womb
wishing we could
embrace her dreamtossing a rune — 06jun25
eihwaz we walk dire valleys
you and i
our bones are hearts
for such places between
pull me gloaming to,
give this stonefield lifeAnother rune poem of mine, where the rune is selected at random. Today’s rune is eihwaz, which has a core meaning of “yew”. Yew trees are associated with the underworld and the axis mundi (world tree), as well as liminal spaces and transformation.
dreamspacing
Photo by Alice Alinari on Unsplash kissing at distance
hands dreamlaced time
drawspacing the narrows
thin between eachwith line
mouth to breath shared
of lips gone surrender
no longer bound of care
silkslip and thigh
that flesh dreamt skin
pulling pastlives present
willing you intwilight eyes
Photo by pedram ahmadi on Unsplash nail bitten fingers
ragged tip raw
all jaundice & spleen
her twilight eyes
flicker flick
a celluloid dream
in shadow & stars
come my lay, my love
she hums, a song
from her pastspinning stone
Photo by Suzanne Rushton on Unsplash a twist on a turn of words
her flower, his hunger
they spin stone for bottle
counting crows perched
high on the live wire
to see who gives what & how
his is the spring
& her seething gives to dance
with her flair, her flail
her everything & ghost
his everything & love
suspecting the hollow
of the old trunk
in the field alone stands
they spin bottle for stone
while crows writhe & laugh
at how the given becomes what
in seething this springnightjar calling
Photo by Abishek on Unsplash this is a day of
desire slips to fade
and we watch only
the forests burning
”i’m too old for this shit.”
in muttered underbreath
“too old for this shit
by far.”
flames lead to smoke
lead to sputtering fuel
gone damp in the
marsh of neglect
nightjar calling at moon
waving away those
memories from when
we were young
