forgetting how to read
my books given to tinder
and letters gone to rust
a kiss the only verse
i know
i might refrain your eyes
on hours, if howevers allow
over endless ribbons
on sky's raven road
do your stars
cut at flesh
when caught
on the fall?
stars
Photo by Troy Olson on Unsplash 2 comments on starsTo like, click comments or:
stars
triptych
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com tangletown dreaming
arterial roots weaving
entwined, your eyes
chipped onyx flecked
and flint in the corners
windows wide and riding
the tall beasts fell
to that old beat howl
all mouths gaping at
how beautiful you areNo. How could you possibly
understand? You would need
the books and coin-covered
eyes to see. Crossing that river
that seems a stream and, if you
do, you could never look back.you look skies, but
some say prayers
over a sea of sand
in cities of dust
come the ash driven
like the snow
while i say mineTo like, click comments or:
triptych
Barrow
Photo by Dana on Unsplash We are already of the barrow.
A turn of the chamber followed the roar of the gun is all that divides. Or the obsidian’s edge, if you prefer, for that line is silent and cuts the threads fine. Or that final chest rattle in the nadir of night, while kin look on.
Gasping revenants clutching at vapors threading their path through the mists and ways, our hands wither to dust. And for what? The illusion of the infinite when we are but dirt and dust.
We color ourselves with the shadow of our own ash gathered from down there, in the pit. Try to give ourselves light from the shadow, by way of contrast. But few seem to see.
We are already of the barrow.
To like, click comments or:
Barrow
hollow me
Photo by Peter Herrmann on Unsplash hollow me wraithly
flitting through moon
crisp tasting & elder
untouching the floor
moving within within
moving within
but… unseen
for all the howl
cold hearth & ashen
still glide the home
given to memento
given to the gloamTo like, click comments or:
hollow me
dominion
into big empty &
sever the tethers
to slip obscure
in those eyes nocturne
i fell in love
with her picture
in the television
i fell in love with
her banshee wail
with eyes crossed kohl
she could not see
even if she tried
given to dominion
i surrendered to her gale
only to be forgotten
in the maelstrom flick
of a changed channelTo like, click comments or:
dominion
old curmudgeon me
old curmudgeon me
feeling aches i disowned
back when i was young
”never will i…”
”not me…”
and
here we are, with me
wondering when i will cane
and already needing more sleep
reading books and watching tv
of people in deeper shit than me
because it makes everything
seem betterTo like, click comments or:
old curmudgeon me
greeting dawn
another storm shuffles through
leaving me powerless
a robin greets dawn
to a neighbor's generator droneTo like, click comments or:
greeting dawn
understone
i understone unturned
waiting for a barleymaid
to fingerpry tendril me free
an echo lingers at chasms
a ghosting at my ears
sweet autumn, her song
calling the long night down
i understone and waiting
for gentle fingers to
slender prise me free.To like, click comments or:
understone
For you
Photo by Adarsh Kummur on Unsplash You’ll find me at moorwanders, following smalltrails and playing at touchstone for the only thing that is real. Here, elder ways draw to base: flame crosses chill, rain mists slick the stone, and the growl of winds between the ways. Here, the animals sing underhill, a call to slumber.
I know you tire at the mention of Raven, but they are here too.
The best magic is that which seems not to be magic at all, and it lingers here like it did in the old, doing a lot of nothing much at all: wind waves barley, skies trading slate for blue and then back again, small birds ducking in and out of the tall grass and the lone tree upon the hill. Them, big oak and me as all acorn, resting underneath and waiting.
For what? you ask.
Well, if you must need know… for you.
To like, click comments or:
For you
tossing a rune — 08aug25
fehu giving away books
to little libraries
to show my kin
sharing make us richer
than accumulationAnother rune poem of mine, where the rune is selected at random.
Today’s rune is fehu, which has a core meaning of “cattle” or a more generalized “livestock”, which was a representation of personal wealth. Wealth and prosperity was valued, but was looked down upon when accumulation appeared to be excessive, greedy, miserly or turned to hoarding, especially when those around you were lacking.
To like, click comments or:
tossing a rune — 08aug25
