
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

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
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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
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barefoot of skin
etched spidered line thin
phantasm and trysting
she slips through at
the old wytchingtree
waiting on the moon
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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.
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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
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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.
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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
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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.

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.
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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
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