i slumber the under
with gut pull drag
forgetting all names
i am tired, so will you
hold me tonight?
and when i
stop making sense
growing fungal
to the loam
bury me inside and
hold me tonight
deadwood and memories
howling to driven
let the rain come
falling and just
hold me tonight
we old crow frenzy
leaving trails of scarlet
trailing off in fresh fallen snow
standing tall of stone north
we are not your sacrifice
we are not your country
we are flint & steel
battle cry & cauldron
we stand of october
swinging blackthorn
without an ounce of fear
Disclosure: My use of those tools most often associated with divination are largely as randomized writing prompts, often with the intent of personal alchemy. They are not intended to be representative of traditional divinatory practice. My personal interpretations (and methods) will likely not agree with those found in popular culture.
hazy daze drifting through
a forest filled with mists
a shrouded day of
memory's ghosts & steel
careless wraithing
a bone wight shamble
given to the otherside
casting about for home
dewdrops on the pale
naked for the grey
a rumble within shadow
stalking unseen
i stone eye see
wondering at
the fuss of things made
while even more words
make timberfall from
scythed crescent to
sunset canyon walls
no more false assurances
no more casting out lines
this tightrope is far too thin
but this tightrope is mine
step once a million rivers
passing over and by—
careless memory
carry me to night
You’re learning, says Raven. A bit soft in the head, but at least you’re progressing.
I put another piece of kindling in the flames, keeping the fire. It’s fire season in the forest. While there is no big risk of flames causing mass destruction here, of all places, I try to be mindful of the possibility and restrain the firebug inside. It seems like that critter has vacated anyway, which is just fine by me. My inner firebug got me into as much trouble as fun over the years and I’m tired of manufactured crises.
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