Tag: betwixt and between

  • Morning blather

    I was thinking (dangerous stuff, that) about totems last night after waking up (this morning?) to use the toilet and after laying back down and trying to find a comfortable position to grab another ninety minutes of shuteye before dealing with the day.

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  • under moon

    making simple hard
    until it is hardly simple
    elder oak sitting, up high

    stretch broken wings to fly
    with throat graveled calling
    tumble on turns to fall

    see beyond seeing
    hear beyond hearing
    feel beyond feeling
    scent beyond scenting
    a taste of song stuck
    in craw

    a slip between mistletoe
    come at gloaming
    under our sickle moon

  • Campfire Sessions — 07jun26

    Campfire
    Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash

    There is a temptation to go, dig a deep hole, lay under autumn skies, and let red and gold cover me before comes the fresh snow. Listen to crowing of crowns and screaming of the foxes. To listen to worms heading to slumber below.

    ymmi on spun webs watches.

    “What means this to you?” they ask.

    I shrug. Surprised, in a way, of ymmi watching. “I am becoming Wode,” I say.

    “You’re becoming silly, if you don’t mind us saying,” says ymmi. “You are already elder Wode. Wode as hell, as they said. What you need is Stone.”

    “I am becoming Stone, too.” It seemed a fair thing to say. I was not going anywhere.

    (more…)

  • mostly nonsense iv

    brown needles pine
    feral underfoot sent

    we slip shadow
    we slip threshold
    glide we to thin
    star the night

    flint the whisper
    that same deep lake
    as you, bone aching

    come now her winter
    crow call that her song
    to this now
    to this here

  • mostly nonsense iii

    we are the dirt we dig—
    but do not say that aloud
    for these gravities pulling
    may be misunderstood

    she called us in the over
    a field away, waving away
    we set our nod to the
    bending down, sifting
    through soil for the bone

    i am not sure
    the course sold is
    the course once told
    so we shovel all-souls
    to the barrow

  • mostly nonsense ii

    all at the edge
    we sometimes
    threshold dance
    in granite gloaming
    as we tend our
    acorn hearts
    under them
    big oak trees

  • mostly nonsense i

    some days raven
    some days stone
    find sinew, slip
    blade bone between
    and divisions
    fall apart, only
    standing watch
    over water

  • thresholds

    i rust stain the red
    under cirrus skies
    slipping umbral to gloam—
    faces all turn away

  • white noise

    the words turn to blur
    every voice fades
    to white noise
    dew wet trousers on
    an early kneeling morn

    chapped lips imagine
    kisses in chill mists
    dreams are made of
    morns made like these—
    the smell of apples
    drifting in

  • echo dream

    i can't help but wonder
    when you talk,
    if you talk to me
    or if that is just dream
    speaking past soft veils

    perhaps it is just a dream
    echoing another dream
    in which there is nothing
    but a dream left for
    anything to say