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  • to ash, to wind

    11May25 | 08.39 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250511.0839
    Image of a writing journal and a pencil.
    Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash
    petals fall from heaven
    a rain in crimson
    we each carry thorn
    scratched grey of flint

    loss given to tristesse
    eyes given to cinereal
    as pussy willow given
    to ash, then to wind

    lone cry in the woods
    as to gloaming begins

    tagged:

    melancholia, poetry

    filed under:

    poetry, writing

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    to ash, to wind

  • sewer

    10May25 | 22.00 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250510.2200
    erase my stain
    and wash me
    down the drain
    sell me down
    that river deep

    tagged:

    poetry

    filed under:

    poetry

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    sewer

  • absurdity bear

    10May25 | 13.55 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250510.1355
    brown bear in the river
    Photo by Francisco Cornellana Castells on Pexels.com
    i will crawl into my cave and
    pull the hole in behind
    i will growl at passers-by...

    for—
    i have feasted upon absurdity
    i pass on consuming more today
    bad drivers and misbehaviors
    and far too much OCD
    i feel bearish of personality
    and at all this absurdity

    tagged:

    about all I can bear, bear, burned out, grumptastic, poetry

    filed under:

    poetry, writing

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    absurdity bear

  • tryst

    09May25 | 21.29 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250509.2129
    Photo by Cornelia Munteanu on Unsplash
    barefoot of skin
    etched spidered line thin
    phantasm and trysting
    she slips through at
    the old wytchingtree
    waiting on the moon

    tagged:

    poetry, the dreaming

    filed under:

    poetry, writing

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    tryst

  • tossing a rune — 09may25

    09May25 | 18.25 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250509.1825
    The Elder Futhark rune “dagaz“.
    one foot in her river
    one foot on her banks
    waiting as they did
    following old ways
    for her rushflow to
    pour across my legs

    Another of my rune poems for a Elder Futhark rune selected at random. Today’s rune is dagaz, whose core meaning is “daybreak”, often interpreted to be a time or place of liminality, or conditions associated with imminent change or transformation. Cusps and thresholds are further examples of ideas that dagaz represents.

    tagged:

    betwixt and between, dagaz, poetry, rune

    filed under:

    poetry, writing

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    tossing a rune — 09may25

  • mine november

    09May25 | 12.51 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250509.1251
    conceptual portrait of hands with red thread
    Photo by Amirhossein Kianbakht on Pexels.com
    her embrace mine november
    the only real remain
    slender pale her fingers,
    hair her ebon black
    her crimson at my throat
    here, only sleepwalking
    dawns the midnight sun
    only slowtalking brings light
    whispers,
    you cannot begin to know

    tagged:

    betwixt and between, poetry, rewilding, the dreaming

    filed under:

    poetry, writing

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    mine november

  • Clair Obscur impressions

    09May25 | 11.06 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250509.1106

    Time permitting, which is not as often as you might think, I’ve been settling down and started playing a recently released game called Clair Obscur: Expedition 33.

    In a day and age where games either seem just, in general, overpriced at $70 for some AAA titles which are often bug-filled things with uninspired gameplay, I do tend to sit up and pay attention when the rumors go around that an AA title comes out from an up-and-coming studio that tries to do something different from the the copy-pasted games out there for less than $50.

    (more…)

    tagged:

    clair obscur, expedition 33, soundtracks, videogames

    filed under:

    junk drawer, listening

    To like, click comments or:

    Clair Obscur impressions

  • this spellbound

    09May25 | 08.12 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250509.0812
    Photo by Connor DeMott on Unsplash
    i eigengrau glyph my skin
    sun-pocked stained within
    carve nails with needles
    set quill to down & begin

    mutterchant words forgot
    shuttled off to fen to rot
    leeched a heart of taint
    spirit thorn reflect of elf-shot

    so, this spellbound
    sworn to the stone
    so, this spellbound
    ash, thorn and bone

    tagged:

    betwixt and between, poetry, rewilding

    filed under:

    poetry, writing

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    this spellbound

  • Towards the Within — New Bible

    08May25 | 13.39 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250508.1339

    Confession time.

    Back in the 90s, I had completely fallen in love with Ani DiFranco based on a single album, Out of Range. If I were to be completely honest, I actually fell in love with her over a single song, The Diner, and I did so while I was sipping over-roasted coffee in some bohemian-styled converted warehouse with the brick walls and exposed support timbers in the Lowertown neighborhood of downtown Saint Paul. I fell hard for her before the song was even over.

    Ani DiFranco; Image source: Rolling Stone

    My conversation partner had gone off to take a piss, as you are prone to needing to while drinking far too many over-roasted cups of black coffee over an afternoon spent doing largely nothing in a very bohemian manner, chain-smoking cigarettes in a very artistic way in the artist quarter of a revived downtown area.

    (more…)

    tagged:

    ani difranco, towards the within

    filed under:

    listening, Towards the Within

    To like, click comments or:

    Towards the Within — New Bible

  • everyone driftboard

    08May25 | 07.17 CDT
    © 2025

    michael raven

    c: 250508.0717
    Photo by Greg Johnson on Unsplash
    everyone driftboard skates past
    these hoarsewhisperered screams
    percolating out eggshell cracks
    growing back between the grass
    wiltgreen hairs of tarball sheen

    glide tinnitus, that heartbeat
    shattermouth glass wrapped in
    barbedwire dreams as the
    everyone driftboard skates
    with only an "oh, bother"
    on lips to greet

    tagged:

    poetry, solitude

    filed under:

    poetry, writing

    To like, click comments or:

    everyone driftboard

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