woke up tired
washed up
dragged down
undertow and gone
rip tide out away
from shore
past jagged
black stones
piercing waves
and the ocean
it pulled me
so far away
until i approached
a ninth wave
i woke up tired
washed up
not needing their
chaos riding home
casting runes — 26jan26
ansuz left to dangle at
the ol' hanging tree &
i cannot breathe
without you
mouth to mouthA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is ansuz, which has a core meaning “a god” (intended to be Odin), “mouth” or “breath”. Odin is representative of many, many things… in this case, ansuz is most representative of the mouth/breath (speech) that gives life to poetry, magic, song, language, and spirit — largely inseparable in the Viking worldview — and Odin is considered the supreme master of these intertwined concepts. By way of the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the rune is named æsc, which is translated to “ash”, a tree associated with Odin and is representative of resilience and strength.
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 — 26jan26
Hollowman
I’ve gone hollow, with dusty cobwebs occupying the empty space inside. If you were to loosen the black leather lacing that holds everything inside, you would be surprised at the void that greets you.
I don’t want you to be shocked. So, consider this fair warning if you elect to look inside just out for the looking for any curiosities you thought might be tied up inside. Some other thief or thieves have already lifted the everything of what used to reside there.
Ahh, is that disappointment I perceive? That long, gravity-trapped face dragging to the ground, where once a smile was to reside, turned to the upside down?
It’s not my preference to be primarily hollow, I assure you. My clockwork heart was quite the thing, I promise, before it was taken from me. Even the spleen filled of ideal was taken from me. I am quite empty, you see.
With all parts cannibalized for the sake of entertainment of others, only my eyes remain to reflect the void within. Waiting for something that long has a been and unlike to be again.
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Hollowman
casting runes — 25jan26
ingwaz oh sure, they said
put your head inside, they said
inside, you'll find a grand surprise
it was all the rage, & so we did
one cinch, one twist
& we pushed deadA rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is ingwaz, a rune named after the god Ing or Freyr. It is representative of a channeled energy or transformational process. It is also be seen as the male component of life, and therefore a symbol of sexual passions and the contributed “seed” of life (and, therefore, an aspect of one’s ancestral ørlǫg, or fate/destiny). Some interpretations conceive the rune as a symbol of darkness, solitude or dreaming.
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 — 25jan26
Follow-up on State-sponsored terrorists invading Minnesota
Photo of Alex Pretti, the 37yo man who was ruthlessly murdered this morning by Federal agents. Photo was captured on The Guardian, January 24, 2026. Sympathy goes out to the family and friends of Alex Pretti. From all accounts he was a giant asset to our city. He was not a criminal or part of a far-left conspiracy bullshit thing they will try to paint him as. He was normal, hardworking, and probably better person than most of us. He was a goddamn VA nurse, for fuck’s sake.
Unlike his killers, he brought life to his world. By all account he loved and cared for people.
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ICE murders, illegitimate government, innocent lives, Minneapolis, Occupation, resist, terrorists, thugsfiled under:
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Follow-up on State-sponsored terrorists invading Minnesota
ICE = State Sponsored Terrorism
I cannot believe I am posting that another civilian was shot to death this morning in Minneapolis by Border Patrol or ICE. Details are scant at this time and I reject the official DHS account because they have been so willing to lie and manipulate the truth about so many things in the past 18 months.
The current credible account is that the person had a 9mm with two loaded magazines. We do not know if he was acting violently towards anyone or not. We have conceal-carry laws in our city (with permit) — it is not known if he had that permit. DHS officials claim they were conducting a “targeted arrest”, but did not disclose if this person was the subject. In the past, those words have been described to account for detailing and arresting racially profiled people and an excuse for demanding citizenship papers.
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ICE = State Sponsored Terrorism
Are we there yet?
Today, I am the child sitting in the back seat of a car on a journey to a place undisclosed by the driver. I jitterbug my legs, anxious to be set free from the confines of the speeding steel box hugging the blackened asphalt curves wending round oldgrowth pines, oaks, birch and aspen, the double yellow lines in the center of the road intermittently broken on one side of the other to indicate where a driver might pass.
There are no other drivers to pass or following the road in the opposite direction. That give some allowance to cut some curves, bisect them as we speed forward to places unknown.
But I just want to arrive.
”Are we there yet?” It is not the first time or last time the question has been asked. I wince, dreading the question as it is uttered, for I hate hearing it as much as I hate asking it.
No one replies. There is no one to reply. The car drives on.
I wish we could just arrive, for I am tired of this drive and am torn between wanting to run and laugh at the other end and just wanting to find a soft place to rest my head and cry. Boys don’t cry, so I will hide the tears as gemstones buried into the folds of the soft space and pretend those are treasures that will find refrain on your lips when you discover them after I am gone.
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Are we there yet?
Carving
Photo by Samuel Quek on Unsplash Black sands and dragging blades… Darkstone scattered with bright ice standing. The skies cast grey and still I drag heavy steel, carving sigils through the wave-rippled beach between tides. Some even recall a something of you and your laughter when you forget it should be broken, but the carrion drown out the song with their raucous calls, and so I must strain to hear.
“You should leave those birds behind,” someone suggests and I remind, “Then there is only spiders, and spiders weave different signs than these.
“And a fox, when they are so inclined,” I add, an afterthought. That fox has decided to be less inclined of late. So I hesitate.
Back to: drag and recall, carving both glyph and secret names in those small hours when most are asleep.
I should be lost, I think. Let them shibari my wrists in wire, lift me on wave and bury me deep. Our heart heavies this hurt just so.
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Carving
casting runes — 23jan26
isaz quenching raging flames to
let passions give to slumber &
burn low with eyes half-closed
embracing winter beauty as
ephemeral as the dreamA rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is isaz, a rune that is translated as the word “ice”. Sources associate isaz with a calmness, present moment or stillness. As ice, isaz is sometimes associated with standstill, stagnation, stasis or contraction; even at times as pristine beauty with seductive qualities.
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 — 23jan26
yes, Virginia…
It is damned cold out there… (That’s in Fahrenheit, BTW).
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yes, Virginia…
