Tag: betwixt and between

  • snow queen

    phantasm i the winter white
    flowing through empty
    fingers trace rail wood ruddy
    dust undisturbed to wake

    linger long hallways and
    snow queen her dwelling
    in the still failing faint,
    unseen her dark eyes

  • under

    stone blind the woodpost
    and standing antler pale
    we nightwing under

    falling into her lovi
    love, fallen in her
    let us dream a song-her
    let us fall within her home

    we heartdrum blackwing
    at edge lake drift snow
    we break our under

    lovi, we dream us,
    deep within her home

  • feast

    i feel a drift
    coming on &
    may take the fade
    on a spell;
    nothing ever remains
    for the feast
    at me

  • empty

    Photo by Cornelia Munteanu on Unsplash
    empty of understanding...

    when i say i am stone,
    i am not stone, i am stone

    when i say i will river
    i do not river, i just river

    when i branch at tree
    i am not branch, but i am tree

    when i say of she i dream
    it is not she, but it is me

    these are times my vandal mouth
    should be sutured shut
    before someone sees
    these broken words i bleed

    soon, no one will call and read nothing back to me.

  • stripped

    carving obsidian beyond bone
    scraping down to marrow
    still more: how can you cut further?

    by slipping to shadows of shadows
    to places behind the behind
    kissing flint in the darkest of times

    we grew of flowers once
    we grew of trees, now
    snow stained scarlet...

    stripped to heartwood
    we stand the granite over doors

  • Campfire Sessions — 07dec25

    Campfire
    Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash

    Something about the campfire and the silent ghosts feels more burden than gift, so I slap my knees to signal that I need to get moving along as we do in the upper midwest, vocalize the requisite “welp” and stand. A few of the spirits turn their grey eyes to me, grant me a lingering look and then those empty eyes return to the flames. Not even a farewell wave then — the winter cold must be slowing them down today. Or maybe it is the daylight’s glare across the fresh snow that makes them blind. We gather in the late morning, although it isn’t without precedent. They prefer the glow of the flames against the backdrop of night, I’ve been told, but they will never turn down a flame lit in their honor if there is one burning in their area.

    I don’t bother with any parting words. Not out of spite, but respect. I am mirroring their inclinations.

    (more…)

  • him, of the cart

    fingers entwined
    we laid side-by-side
    waiting on the fade
    into the morrow &
    wept under pale stars
    burning high above
    our pale hearts

  • to shatter ice

    seething a steel spike
    to shatter ice, to
    strike sparks to stone
    sever sinew & send
    a tattoo to bone

    pierce mine eyes
    so the seeing can begin

    shh tell no one this lullaby it is our secret to own welcome to this razor wire

  • waiting drawn

    cord bound in lace and
    burning wheels
    to find my way back
    to ringwood fires and
    turquoise nights that
    i can never wipe 
    from my mind's eye...

    ragged lips become
    a stolen kiss, there 
    upon empty mounds

    long has waiting drawn
    for her there still

  • another tangle

    Campfire
    Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash
    another tangle of winter
    at slick crags open water
    i shed these bones for you

    chisel shadow, wax & stain
    heartbeat heavy slow
    ancestors flow on whisper

    gather flame of heartwood
    collect forgotten songs
    here raises laughter
    here we belong