distractions become bliss with
the fever of fingers dancing
in the darkest shadows and
a kiss before that small death
where stars blur and blend
slipstream into one present
into rising waves of pasts
beyond remembering
to crash into you
crash
Photo by Stephane Gagnon on Unsplash To like, click comments or:
crash
etchcarve
Photo by Dylan Whoriskey on Unsplash i carve the etch of me
all whalebone & darksea
a riprap black taking
all wavecast offerings
adding to that nightinked
& lowing in underwave,
that etchcarve of meTo like, click comments or:
etchcarve
tossing a rune — 16jun25
mannaz tangled on wyrding
bonds stretched to strain
cairn flags flutter in
the winds set aflameAnother rune poem of mine, where the rune is selected at random.
Today’s rune is mannaz, which has a core meaning of “man”. The extension of the rune also includes “mankind” or “human”. Going further, some have interpreted this rune to mean rational thinking, family, social order and self-awareness.
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tossing a rune — 16jun25
stranger am i
i stranger am i
unknown to be
i stranger am i
fatigued to be
trial as k
no answer find
weary talking in
wandering warrens
of stranger am iTo like, click comments or:
stranger am i
Wot up?
Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash I’m going to be posting less often over the summer. I think so, anyway.
Why?
I have a couple of irons in the fire, among other reasons:
(more…)tagged:
filed under:
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Wot up?
there be lions
That is what one gets when one listens to rumors.
Rumors lead to hope. And “hope”, as the song goes, “is no good”. You would think we would not learn to base our decisions on hope. That is what we get for thinking, as my grandmother was fond of saying.
Better to put that bear to slumber once again. Help him to hibernate and sleep this long, cold winter of the soul away, away.
We can try to explain but the words come out all wrong and we speak of pain, people think we like it here. Ever the tears to hide, slip on a smile — wooden and hollow — and give in to the dreaming on.
Even if… there be lions. Ever and hungry.
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there be lions
underneath
Photo by pedram ahmadi on Unsplash the peopling ages raw
meat hook hanging
— don't pretend to kiss me,
this savage morning hurts
let me dance the razor's edge
the deaf talk my broken digits
the blind point my way home
underneath, i weary stoneTo like, click comments or:
underneath
toll
Photo by Alla Kemelmakher on Unsplash how lonely the tolling of
the bell sans clapper
as come those mists of
yon forest valeTo like, click comments or:
toll
Half-penny thoughts | 12jun25
Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash I’m doing some spiritual alchemy this morning. You know, calcination, dissolution, separation… yada yada yada. Fancy words for a messy process.
As most of you know, I don’t have much patience with fancy language to describe simple things. I also don’t have much patience with elaborate processes when the processes themselves should be (and tend to be) simple.
Stepping back…
I was thinking again, about this process of rewilding my spirit, getting back to the beginning. Part of that involves taking what you perceive yourself to be and going all Zen by seeking out the face you wore before you were born. Or, as the kōan would have it, before your parents were born.
[A kōan, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a Zen “public case” meant to help one realize satori, otherwise known as enlightenment.]
What better place to set as a destination for rewilding your spirit? Your original face, before even your parents were born!
Before nurture came around… Before your nature evolved…
What face did you wear?
And can you find it again?
Note: For the curious, my philosophy is largely Taoist informed by Zen, my spiritual practice is largely animist, influenced by panpolytheistic understandings (with many of those trappings removed). Confused? Now you know why I think these kinds of thoughts.
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Half-penny thoughts | 12jun25
