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
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-betweenA 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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casting runes — 12nov25
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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dabbles — folk horror
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 lineTo like/comment:
on the ridge
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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Reading Progress — 11nov25



