I don’t mean to be no trouble, but I am thinking of dyin.
He sat across from me, sipping his percolated coffee with one or three too many fistfuls of coffee thrown in “for good measure”. If you were to believe the tall tales he tells, he uses an old sock to filter out the biggest of the grounds, but I think that’s probably bullshit. Or it might not be bullshit and I’m just hoping that it is at least a clean old sock he uses for the purpose.
(more…)some are dying days
drying as we curl
within ourselves
stained ruddy & dun
wrinkled & yellowed
under a low-hanging sun
drip
drip
drip
a life of rain gutter
cast-offs mouldering
the smell of bridges burning
on crisp autumn air &
some are dying days
between the spaces
us, drying, wytching alone
inside an empty grove
to sit still on
a windswept hill
call myself stone,
feast on her song from
under the mound
and slumber to
while away the ages
They never mention it in books, of course. The travel guides, I mean. They never tell you just how far you can, on average, walk in a pair of shoes before they start to fall apart. Of course, not all shoes are built the same and there’s going to be some variability in how well they will wear, but I’ve found you can maybe walk five hundred miles on fairly even asphalt in a pair of sneakers before you might want to keep your eyes open for your next pair. Boots meant for hiking? Maybe twice that, but you had better not rely on there being any tread to give you traction that last two hundred miles, give or take. Still, boots are my go-to, though they tend to weigh you down more at the end of the day than something more athletic.
Of course, you’re rarely given the choice of boots or sneakers while on the drift. More often than not, you have to accept what you come across and, obviously, the mileage on a worn pair of footwear is significantly lowered.
But beggars can’t be choosers, as my gran would say.
(more…)tagged:
filed under:
by way of season
the year soon will die
we gather in the pale
wrapped in battle's arms,
buried within and
wait for the sun
to cross back
over the horizon
A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is mannaz, a rune that translates to “man” in the sense of “humankind”. The rune is associated with family and the social order, and in trusting the intuitive process or seeing clearly — both from within and from without. Mannaz influences relationships of all kinds, including those of a romantic nature and encourages compassion, for oneself as well as for others.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
Isn’t it time to retire the concept of the G.O.A.T. (greatest of all time)?
I mean, how does one even begin to objectively quantify that in order to support such a statement?
The biggest issue is that whenever someone says such a thing, is that it is always presented as fact when it is absolutely pure opinion. You can’t quantify such things and it is usually a tactic to bully someone into thinking as you do.
“Be one of us now….”
The acronym even rubs me wrong. Goats everywhere are offended by it. “Appropriation!”
we follow the same
wading both blood
& blades for a glimpse
of the lady waiting
at the end of the glade
& to receive her nightkiss
As I am reading The Chronicles of the Black Company, a blurb on the back struck me as being something of an important statement when it comes to stories and how they are written.
(more…)“With the Black Company series Glen Cook single-handedly changed the face of fantasy—something a lot of people didn’t notice and maybe still don’t. He brought the story down to a human level, dispensing with the cliché archetypes of princes, kings, and evil sorcerers. Reading his stuff was like reading Vietnam War fiction on peyote.” [emphasis mine]
– Steven Erikson, author of the series: Malazan Book of the Fallen.
dusk pours out of me
i am that lost hour
a brittle bone heart
carved in passing as
they drift to the next
hole in the sky,
a stone before the lake