“we locked up Ben
just to hear his screams,”
is how the story began
once black type, now brown
on yellowed paper old
stuffed without ceremony
in a notepad more
jaundiced than the
paper it was printed on
nervous chuckles at that
with a put that aside
until braver days rise
maybe some misbegotten
future morn
or maybe not,
vaguely recalling
misdirectional intent behind
the phrase from before
but not tonight, no
as i enjoy the glow of
cds inventoried to store
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lost weirds wording
mute mouth movement
i blind eye my fuzzy sight
waiting for fires to burn
your permission is
not my intention
your permission is
not my affliction
i break earth in lines
in my own damned time
nightsitting, waiting
giving over to my dross
'til she bare feet comes
never touching ground
never turning 'round, again
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piercing pellets at endsummer
an unexpected assault
on brainpan and leaf
soon, grass will return green
to crickets waving a breeze
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is hagalaz, which has a core meaning of “hail”, which was associated with potential, transformation, renewal and change.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
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I had a sudden flashback this morning of a restaurant that I never actually went to, but passed nearly every weekend as a kid as the family drove from the Twin Cities metro area to a cabin my aunt owned in Minnesota’s northwoods. The restaurant was heavily advertised on the route by way of billboards and driving by the venue itself was usually enough to trigger a flurry of requests to stop for dinner.
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