Tag: rewilding

  • so many

    in the shadow
    i am so many

    i am bone knife
    i am blood dream
    i am antlers inked
    i am rust scream

    if there were a love
    i would disbelieve
    for i am so many
    in the shadow
    unseen

  • now we are again

    the things we did in
    the ruins of forebears
    along rapids back then,
    scaling backwalls by
    the falls with flowers
    in our heads

    like those tools left out
    in the rain, my friend
    blood washed to rust in 
    our time flowing over
    to the big river in
    concrete broken gutters

    now we are bloodless
    again

  • Disruptence and Discord.ance

    My break from posting new content notwithstanding while I do a personal reset, I am not planning at sitting idle, tapping at tabletops with forefinger and repeating “What to do? What to do?” while trying to find a Zen moment streaming Yanni.

    As appealing as it might be to listen to Yawni all day, I am honestly trying to disrupt my personal thinking and writing processes.

    (more…)

  • casting runes — 31aug26

    kenaz
    ash remains...
a smudge over each eye
to wipe away a pale veil
that lies, hidden
of shadow & fey
burning brands
to light the way

    A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.

    Today’s rune is kenaz, which has been translated as both “torch” and “ulcer” . It is conceived as symbolic of flame, which is the illuminated creativity as well as the source of purification/healing/cautery. Fire is a a source of transformation and unmaking as well as heat, passion and light. As an ulcer, kenaz can be associated with a fever or inflammation, perhaps a wound which requires healing.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

  • then, fade

    tucked between birchbark light
    and gathered by the bramble
    wire-bound his bone heart waiting

    lichen keeps no tick-clock and so
    the world waited on granite time
    before blood was to crack the flow

    no gate, nor thorn
    no gate, nor thorn
    he wound thread taut
    around twin thumbs
    by which he was
    to remember

    then, fade and

  • casting runes — 27aug26

    raido
    a roads are wont to do
    this one turned in of itself
    back out and wended 'round
    so tangled as to tie in knots

    with eye turned inside
    the road returns constraint
    set on a winter path
    cluttered in the palest birch
    a phantom passing through
    the moonlit wood

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is raido, which has been translated as “ride” and the implied “journey”. This may be spatial and literal in practice (a physical journey), or it may be more figurative (an inner/shamanic journey, i.e., útiseta). The rune is associated with cyclic motion and the movement of the sun. Some consider the journey represented by raido to be that of returning.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

  • awake lies dreaming

    my sad is dreaming awake
    clutching fingers grasping 
    for threads gossamer away
    web memories tangled
    of us in winter again
    i grew cold since then,
    you see,  cold left standing
    of hollow of tree seeking sleep
    when all my awake lies
    dreaming

  • hacksilver

    that tugging of outland,
    of going geilt, to wood
    embraced of many She-s
    beyond the bramble gate

    rub my eyes, longdark
    the better which to see
    wrap myself in blackthorn
    the better which to feel

    and should you
    cross my palm with
    spirited hacksilver —
    i may tell you where
    you may find me

  • unfollowed

    you cannot follow,
    you cannot see and
    i have no words
    you can hear from
    under this tree

    i call you blood etched
    in this bleak season
    though i shake of
    ragdoll in fist with
    every word she speaks

    antlers twinned
    and forked, i hold whole
    worlds here under
    the hood of my cloak

    yet still,
    you cannot follow,
    you cannot see
    i have no words
    you can hear from
    under this tree

  • this watercourse

    i have grown old these ways
    yet still young rivers born
    while i flow to their babble
    cutting a current of my own

    mine, this watercourse
    winter sets bone
    the bare branches 
    for winds let go

    jipjipjip
    old wren the freshfall