[originally published on sceadugenga.com, July 23, 2020]
rank fish and saltwater
watching the ferry glide
across the water at dusk
the fire of the dying day
dancing on the waves
Note: I am taking a short break from posting new material and am tossing out a few older pieces as explained here and here. Thanks for your continuing support.
show no steely smiles
nor crystal tears
as you ghost dance
this mortal coil
bound by razor wire,
guilt and shame
[originally posted on sceadugenga.com on July 10, 2020]
tok tok tok --
raven tapping on the
fog filled street
[originally posted on sceadugenga.com, June 22, 2020]
gallons of ink have been spilled
etching razor blade words
into arms wrapped in the rags of
our stains
little changed in the years between
youth and age
till gagged
still chained
[Originally posted June 23, 2020 on sceadugenga.com]
While I was taking my little break from the internet, I wasn’t just twiddling my thumbs. I was not only doing extensive introspective writing (journaling I guess it could be called) and writing in private, but I was working on other creative endeavors as well. One of those was to follow up on a request made several years ago by Tara Caribou, owner Raw Earth Ink (publisher of my book of poetry, galdr, among other fine books) and fellow collaborator on reach (another music/poetry effort) as well as other poetry pieces.
While we had agreed to do something like this in principle back in 2022 or 2023, one or both of us was busy (or, in my case, musically tapped out) and we could never seem to get our ducks in a row (I’ll take the blame, I’m the one who generally over-schedules myself).
(more…)
mistwalking the waters
she strode, one foot before the next
both eyes set forward
across that mystic lake
that raven-haired nyneve with
her dress flowing back
flesh pale even against the fog
originally published 06aug2021, w/minor edits
I am taking a short break from blogging and have scheduled a few older poems to fill up the empty spaces in the interim.
were the feral to cast
chalked white doors
handprints, handprints
powder pale worn
singing us under
singing us home
our lady of phantoms
with one last kiss
before dawn
originally posted 13nov2023; the title is the only modified part of the text
I am taking a short break from blogging and have scheduled a few older poems to fill up the empty spaces in the interim. This poem was originally inspired by the card Mounds of the Tuath from the Oracle of the Morrigan deck.