a fog carries that
pale lost to white
steel rails to hills
raven calling
she brings children
in skirts she gathers
staring straight she
glides barefoot stride
her night velvet
whispered crushing
hand out, calling
my voice hoarse
in the fading forth
Tag: the dreaming
to hills
Photo by Connor DeMott on Unsplash games
Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash always unknowing & unreadable
her eyes play from the shadows
teasing & taunting
forgive me, i am so tired
of these gamesred dirt
Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash sitting the red dirt
casting needle bone raw
hey fox, ho owl
what tales do winds tell?
given to ghost on promise
tied leather, wrapped lace
turning on bright flame
if the memory serves you
well
sitting the red dirt
between pine and swell
hey owl, ho fox with
promises winds tellWatch your step
Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash Investigations of another kind…
Which is worse?
- Having dreams that can never come true, or
- No longer having those dreams that can never come true
There’s is place in this forest haunted by ghosts and regret. Myrkr and madness linger at the centre. Here be monsters. Some are framed in mirrors.
This is the way, step inside.
burning books
Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash these witching hour dreams
what are they supposed to
mean?
that chapter has long been
burned at the stake i cannot
will it into being
leave now, o ghost
so perhaps we can dream
another life
where our books no long burn
