Category: poetry

  • killing jar

    Image of a writing journal and a pencil.
    Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash
    shake, twist the flame
    dancing on the edge
    give shout and no one
    seems to hear

    becoming flutter
    all wraith and dream
    with a voice gone mute
    and eyes, no longer see

    a history on display
    inside for the killing jar

  • burning books

    Campfire
    Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash
    these witching hour dreams
    what are they supposed to
    mean?

    that chapter has long been
    burned at the stake i cannot
    will it into being

    leave now, o ghost
    so perhaps we can dream
    another life

    where our books no long burn

  • returns

    muscle memory returns, slow 
    fingertips shredded to ribbons
    a smile on my face

  • we stone

    a path in the middle of a dark forest
    Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash
    here we stone
    under her sun
    & feverwarm

    here we loam
    ruddy that leaf &
    deadwood

    here we stone

  • blind eyes close

    Image of a writing journal and a pencil.
    Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash
    gazing hand & shadow
    this bone, this muscle
    untouchable & tiring
    skinstained with night
    painted to stars myrkr
    heavy, they anchor
    a heart sent to slumber
    under wood & gloaming
    a kiss to blind eyes close

  • sleepless

    sleepless hands crab & 
    clutch at taut muscles
    frozen long nights
    eyes seeking skies for
    the host on the ride

  • smudging space

    sage bundles in a pot for smudging
    Photo by Ginny Rose Stewart on Unsplash
    i smudge space most days
    inviting spirits to my smoke at
    campfires within indoor plains
    for no reason at all
    but to give them space to
    rest their weary before
    they carry on & then on

  • two-twenty

    sunlight shining through old growth woods
    Photo by Simon Wilkes on Unsplash
    my body is my drum
    humming at two-twenty
    thumps per minutes
    from my thumb, terraforming
    my world before my eyes
    turning inside to see
    where everything is
    leaves and evergreens
    with buzz wing dragonflies
    dancing pastel skies
    slumbering in dream
    under a springtime sun

    hanging words on oak
    my heart bursts wide

  • hear her

    a path in the middle of a dark forest
    Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash
    fever head her
    birch song wind
    russet leaves dead
    sleet ticktaps pines
    as she stands strong

    hear her, hear her
    under the wood
    alder sap & painted
    hear her, hear her
    underdark
    underwood
    shadowsonged

    fever head her
    blackthorn pricks
    stone the river run
    river under ice
    and brambles strong

    hear her...

  • stone turning

    Image of a writing journal and a pencil.
    Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash
    this every stone turned
    hides another lie
    buried in permafrost
    look to the other
    find your heart within
    chase the chill away