• my eye

    not chasing butterflies i
    not watching foxfire tonight
    wisps, they drift the willow
    and there i turn my eye

    she wraps her pale in shadow
    she wraps my heart in wire
    tug with bone scarred ivory
    wrapping shades through my eye

    bit lip to raw and scarlet
    bit neck to pierce the sighs
    inking skin with stars and night
    sending ink to black my eye

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    my eye

  • casting runes — 12nov25

    eihwaz
    my spirit is shadow
    flowing slow of evenfall river
    where murky banks slip by
    & all eyes turn away
    while scarlet leaves
    spin the eddies in-between

    A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.

    Today’s rune is eihwaz, it’s name meaning “yew”, is a rune of change and transformation. It represents the cycle of life/death/rebirth and is symbolic of the axis mundi (the world tree). The yew is envisioned as a path towards both the underworld and the heavenly realms. It is associated both with poison and protection as part of its perceived dual nature.

    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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  • dabbles — folk horror

    Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

    I was invited by Ted (shredbobted) to join his Discord group to workshop some short fiction for cross-promotion amongst the participants. I’m only now getting some free time and energy to explore some ideas; it’s been a busy time for me, or I have been worn out.

    A few weeks ago, I cranked out an exploration into an old theme that I wanted to revisit, called “Drifter”. The idea was that there are a group of folks traveling in the “in-between” spaces and using dolmen as doors to try and find their homes back in realspace. After a week, I looked at the first thousand or so words I had written and realized that I’d left the tale completely without an anchor. To remedy that, I would probably have to at least write it as a novella, and more likely as a full novel — neither of which am I prepared to do at this time.

    A few days ago, I started working on a different idea, with the explicit intention that it would have a solid anchor prior to getting weird. And the weirdness was going to be quite a bit more grounded in nature. I’m a little more satisfied with this effort after drumming up around 2500 words because it doesn’t feel quite so airy and disingenuous (in places).

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  • on the ridge

    this, i foxfoot mine
    under the flint
    waiting on rime
    this, old ways skein
    tangled up on me

    here, mosshaired stone
    under the rain
    waiting on time
    here, poppet a pocket
    tangled up on line

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  • Reading Progress — 11nov25

    Photo by Peter Herrmann on Unsplash

    Well, golly. It appears that I got ahead of myself.

    After putting down my phone and picking up a book or my ebook device in early September, I set for myself what I thought to be a modest reading goal to pull me away from doomscrolling and videogaming: twenty books to read in the last quarter of 2025. That’s roughly a book and a half a week. Nothing strenuous, but nothing to sneeze at. There are plenty of folks out there who might (might!) get in twenty books the entire year on a good year. I should know, I lapsed into being one of those kinds of readers until recently. Others might achieve that goal after a decade. Or more.

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