cut & cautery
carve away those
parts we do not like
& give to smoke that
not given to root
not given to bone
sun gazing &
dizzy of dance—
reborn
Today rune is kenaz. The word has been associated with “ulcer” and “torch”, depending on which rune poem is used or name derivation you embrace. By extension, it implies flame and illumination as secondary meanings. Tertiary meanings come from ideas associated with those themes (e.g., burning, knowledge, light in darkness).
beyond pale bone pointing
carved within the fells
this cracked heart flinted
veined of moss
framed in lichen
feathered at grey & blue
here, i drink stone rains
here, i bathe in sweat
in steam's sharp relief
i have been twisting
bedsheets into ropes
in unsleep at nights
trying to untie my
soul from tinctures
of thorn and regret
some black stones
at the ocean and
under a beggar's
moon, hair flows
rivers as night
stars fall showers
razoring fingers
in the tweens
a barred owl
plays sentry in
lush trees
can i help but
come when called?
we are carved
jagged of purpose
we are wraps
we are rags
we flint, we thorn
we tooth, we bone
suns twinned, southern low
cracked lips, nail broke
ragged
we winter in heart
waiting for blood
there is a hollow in the center where
only the trees & ever the stones
know my name
blind, the trailhead of myrkr & mist
look to ancestors below your feet
recalling we are all related
spreading as spores & tendrils
on & on
remember november?
for the chill rains falling, i sheltered
at the hollow on the center where
only the trees & ever the stones
know my name
drawing razorwire taut tendons
tight breath rustneedle intake
bury me leaves under shallow
bury me leaves under stone
rain wash silt the river down
rain wash silt the river down
fidget fingers making shadow words
fidget fingers making broken songs
fidget finger fidget misfit
metal gestalt cuts memory sharp
close winter my eyes of
slag cast, drawn...
whiskey’d lovebites
stolen from neck & lips
midnight vanilla in a kiss
as all time slipstreams &
lovers sail on a sea of dreams
river west through and sanguine
slipping serpentine dusk over red
tangled up in roots and memory
casting scree down narrow bank
a wish? or smoke on a prayer?
it seems like it was so long ago
but never rivers the same for
as wheels cut ford —
ever of in-between...
