I probably shouldn’t reveal this in public, but I think I found the torture that might push me over the edge and confess to being an accessory to John Wilkes Booth’s assassination of Lincoln, should anyone want to force me to make that claim. I might even believe I was part of it, if someone were to focus on one tiny part of my body.
No — not the lower unmentionables.
Something much less in the manner of “naughty bits”. It would be: My teeth.
Yes. My teeth.
(more…)tagged:
filed under:
To like, click comments or:
even dead things have their wild—
campfires hold no sway over their
bone whispers shrouded in mists
should you shadowwalk with me
we will slender through feral spaces
to find our the names and faces
we wore before we were born,
or we may lose our myriad selves
in the fog
Disclosure: My use of those tools most often associated with divination are largely as randomized writing prompts, often with the intent of personal alchemy. They are not intended to be representative of traditional divinatory practice. My personal interpretations (and methods) will likely not agree with those found in popular culture.
To like, click comments or:
she is twin crests
her rivers run free
that is all we
need know
she is the green
her cleft draws in
into the womb
under cairn
stone is all that matters
all words just
nattering on like
whispers on wind
she is wellspring
that is all
we need know
To like, click comments or:
shocked at the shock
whenever i make the claim
that forgetting might
actually be a desirable thing
or when i claim
to be forgotten might
be much the same
what is memory anyway?
ephemeral and fleeting
like a cloudburst in july
or that first vagrant snowflake
on a chill october day
To like, click comments or:
maltrusting and skirting
penumbral lines blurred
against falling rain
cutting lacuna coils
into the night
oh mortal you
trapped outside these
chalked white hills
a song in your head
given to bone
To like, click comments or:
“I told yer ma, that’s a season — tain’t no name for a girl,” her father used to tell her when she was young, before he had choked on all that ash that started falling from the skies and died. He was never one to wear a mask, and refused to cover his face after the Ashfalls began. The particulates, buried deep under the earth until recent years, made quick work of his cigarette-ravaged lungs.
“I n’ver did know why she gone did that, but she made me promise to name y’that after you was born.”
“Maybe it was because my hair was white as snow?” she would always suggest, knowing the answer even as she said it. It was a game they played, this conversation of theirs.
(more…)To like, click comments or:
grendel grendel grendel grendel
grendel grendel me
marsh water bog body
brown water me
pierce me liver, piece me gut
feed me liver, burning rut
grendel, grendel me, grendel
hunger on the night
To like, click comments or:
my head has gone to heath
mottled stone of lichen
passing steel or passing sun
under rain and dampening
cold the wind whistles wending
through the heath stones
that make of my head
slender spaces shimmer quiet
thin be'twixt and 'tween
here upon my hillock of dream
To like, click comments or:
Ray and I are of a similar age — darn near exactly, if I’m being honest, but I like to hold my ever-so-slight seniority over his head like a big brother might. We grew up doing much of the same things. His framework was from the lens of the 80s dirtballs and metalheads, mine from the 80s freaks and goths. Even back in the 80s, these subcultures bonded quite readily and often found common ground, largely because we were all “outside of society” as Patty Smith sang [I won’t risk offending anyone by naming the song, you know or you can look it up]. We were all rejects.
(more…)To like, click comments or:
campfire pops & crackles
set the song's rhythm
spirits remain mute
surrendering space
to night's denizens
so they may sing, too
Another rune poem of mine, where the rune is selected at random.
Today’s rune is ansuz, which has a core meaning “a god” (intended to be Odin), “mouth” or “breath”. Odin is representative of many, many things… in this case, ansuz is most representative of the mouth/breath (speech) that gives life to poetry, magic, song, language, and spirit — largely inseparable in the Viking worldview — and Odin is considered the supreme master of these intertwined concepts.
To like, click comments or: