Tag: betwixt and between

  • ripsaw

    poplar crowing at height
    a city's dirty snow
    stretched out below me
    leaning into tumble
    for but to pray to fly—
    a ripsaw shredding harsh
    songs against the grain

  • hollows

    I am gnawing at black ice, waiting to become real while taking in all obsidian and injecting it in my veins. I would offer you a taste, but I can already see your shard eyes speak and say, “Oh, I had planned to offer you mine.” I would not want your generosity to go to waste. So I gnaw.

    Sure sure, I’ll be paid in token for my taking — coin coming in kisses melting on the wind. Scant warmth, that. But enough heat for a haint, when we black ice gnaw the typic nights, I expect.

    My twin blind eyes haze over when I look to the east. Hollows, I say to none… There is no Avalon.

  • horror story

    the horror is not being in
    the thrall of a leannán sídhe

    the horror is being not in
    the thrall of a leannán sídhe

    wraith wanderings,
    stoney moors on the
    crisp & hollow

  • drifts

    dragonfly cattail sunning
    in gentle summer winds
    watching my lips trace
    the curve of your calf
    to the plop of a turtle
    moving from sitting logs
    to taking plunge for a swim

  • torpor

    barefoot and slumber
    half under the covers
    the other half wrapped
    up in you

    tangle and torpor
    who cares for warm summers
    while a'winter in the
    afterglow of you

  • wild horse

    with talons in scalp & neck
    with gravel voice inside head
    black blade scraping skull
    within red cedar rising tall...
    someone rode their wild horse
    & that someone was not me

  • briar tangled between

    Photo by Justin Wilkens on Unsplash
    all that is owned is empty or
    flaking rust from dull razors
    drawing ley from
    rope raw wrist to
    hangman's etching,
    all briar tangled between

  • one breath &

    ache on more mantic &
    less onto dreaming
    hand pat knee thigh
    tears eye entwine
    a dollar thin love
    cut from small bones 
    touch a tear to tongue
    & linger nectar sweet...

    something stolen in
    that silence between
    one breath & the next

  • shadow to light

    Photo by Jimmy Liu on Unsplash
    something dies

    something arises

    both will end
    in blood and in tears
    wetting chapped lips
    sharp ends dragged
    ragged across
    it all

    come close to hold
    both to small and in mouse
    let us gaze upon limeslit
    scrim and heavy
    past aged oak and envy
    here is the tale of night
    in where

    something dies

    something arises

    something comes of
    shadow to light

  • dreamtest

    Photo by shahin khalaji on Unsplash

    I have intensely vivid dreams. From what I gather from having talked to people over the years, they tend to be more vivid than many people’s dream and I am often given more agency within the dream than most people claim to have (meaning, I can make choices that change the story or nature of the dream), and I can read one to five words at a time (book titles, street names), and retain it upon waking. Reading signs and books in dream tends to be especially hard for most people (but not all people), if they even think to do it (knowing what something “says” and “reading it” are two different things in dream).

    I had a series of especially vivid dreams last night and I have a little experiment I think might be interesting to try out. One of you was in one of my dreams last night. The dream space took place in an old theater and we were sitting in red, velvet-covered seats in the dark. I eventually pointed to the stage while leaning over to you and whispered, “Watch. See. This is important.”

    (more…)