
i suppose that sometimes
a dream is only a dream
but these always lean
towards rude awakenings

i suppose that sometimes
a dream is only a dream
but these always lean
towards rude awakenings
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overdone & unmoored
sent adrift & becalmed
uncertain of standing
or taken sitting down
wondering what was
done to deserve these
days
you're due for holiday
they say, but where do you go
when even going away
makes you feel like this
on these days
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under burning skies
and
echoes in between
wander as shuffle
grow at weary
aching for a fall
to wash hands in
her waters flow
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we all a whorl
turning in & out
labyrinthine & fell
for the internal
shadowed twists
allowing for hel in our
heart bone hearts
can you see your teeth?
we lay down there
at the wytching tree
buried of her womb
wishing we could
embrace her dream
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I just got to the stage where my fiction subdomain is getting becoming functional. The keyword is “functional”, but it is far from finished/polished and the content quality there is. erm, lacking at the moment. Of course, it is purely for testing ideas and functionality, so it will eventually be wiped.
It is not currently behind a “maintenance mode” wall, so if you want to see how the Fictioneer WordPress template demos on my site, you can check it out at fiction.ravensweald.com.
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I feel a need to throw a myriad of miscellanea out there to anyone willing to give it a read. This is your classic dumper dive post, where you might find something interesting, maybe even valuable, but what you find might have an equal chance of just being junk. Read at your own risk. No refunds.
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we walk dire valleys
you and i
our bones are hearts
for such places between
pull me gloaming to,
give this stonefield life
Another rune poem of mine, where the rune is selected at random. Today’s rune is eihwaz, which has a core meaning of “yew”. Yew trees are associated with the underworld and the axis mundi (world tree), as well as liminal spaces and transformation.
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kissing at distance
hands dreamlaced time
drawspacing the narrows
thin between eachwith line
mouth to breath shared
of lips gone surrender
no longer bound of care
silkslip and thigh
that flesh dreamt skin
pulling pastlives present
willing you in
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nail bitten fingers
ragged tip raw
all jaundice & spleen
her twilight eyes
flicker flick
a celluloid dream
in shadow & stars
come my lay, my love
she hums, a song
from her past
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a twist on a turn of words
her flower, his hunger
they spin stone for bottle
counting crows perched
high on the live wire
to see who gives what & how
his is the spring
& her seething gives to dance
with her flair, her flail
her everything & ghost
his everything & love
suspecting the hollow
of the old trunk
in the field alone stands
they spin bottle for stone
while crows writhe & laugh
at how the given becomes what
in seething this spring
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