heather grey stairstop sitting
all elbows & knees & grinning
sundanced & hair bright gold
ten-twenty-one, crows gone counting
a hungry & thirsty spring morning
apartment landing
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apartment landing
Reading progress — 24dec25
We’re almost at the end of the observed numbered year, so I thought I’d do one of my little updates and clear off my plate on the matter.
I’ve slipped a bit on consumption since the last update and I think I’ve added a book or two to my completion rate, but I have been adding pages not reflected in the page-count on Goodreads due to unfinished books not appearing in my stats.
If you add the progress I’ve made in my current audiobook (yes, audiobooks count as reading), the two books I am currently reading and the books that I’ve abandoned — totaling approximately another 1000 pages in addition to that number in my official Goodreads stats — I have read approximately 9800 pages since I started tracking my reads in October. Completed books sits at 22, with a high likelihood of adding one or two more this week.
Lessons learned with respect to abandoned reads…
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Reading progress — 24dec25
a ghost in the machine
all obfuscation & confuddle
all illusion & unsubstantial
a wraith, nothing more
i must have died
so long, long ago, now just
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a ghost in the machine
casting runes — 23dec25
othala undercloak, reaching back
to bones & stones
through blood & black
rime-eyed & cataract
we razor high drifts
highspaces we roam
with gills on our tongues
drinking burning skies &
slipping closer to homeA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is othala, which has a core meaning of “heritage”, “inheritance” and “legacy”. These are all associated with home, kin, ancestors, stability and (in some interpretations) past lives or spiritual legacy.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
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casting runes — 23dec25
Kind
I wonder whatever became of Kind. She drifted away like a mote on the wind one summers day, flitting here and there before in the distance she did fade, leaving neither full lips or ashen hair to guide the way to where she went on drift. Perhaps she burned away, like any dream does when the sun shines on something at such length — and so wan she was in the begin, that slim girl Kind. It was a wonder she had not been consumed years ago.
I check balconies in the gloaming; I inspect the shadowtall oaks, gnarled in the their age. But Kind is no where and no when, our pale empress aloft on the wind. I miss our lady Kind, and the delirium euphoric that she did bring.
And I wonder at where she took her drift.
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Kind
