Tag: the dreaming

For you
Photo by Adarsh Kummur on Unsplash
You’ll find me at moorwanders, following smalltrails and playing at touchstone for the only thing that is real. Here, elder ways draw to base: flame crosses chill, rain mists slick the stone, and the growl of winds between the ways. Here, the animals sing underhill, a call to slumber.
I know you tire at the mention of Raven, but they are here too.
The best magic is that which seems not to be magic at all, and it lingers here like it did in the old, doing a lot of nothing much at all: wind waves barley, skies trading slate for blue and then back again, small birds ducking in and out of the tall grass and the lone tree upon the hill. Them, big oak and me as all acorn, resting underneath and waiting.
For what? you ask.
Well, if you must need know… for you.
08 Aug 25

warden

circling threes from trees
birch white paper of black
calling out his name
from the wending ways
a warden in the weald

we are flight we are free
bending skies to our own
shaking wood, twisting stone
to lay alone of earthwomb
wrapped in fevers

a fragment found.
a key —

head tilt and a shout,
a return to north winds

05 Aug 25

dogs

*Photo by Massimiliano Sarno on Unsplash*

her face in the mirror
all mine not mine and
there is rust washing
to be done on old chains
in the barren playlot

she the me locking unlocking
six-paneled doors wood
of ghetto apartments
a gulag of memories jailed
rape is not right
not a right
but we, me and she
promise the no cry no more

come knocking,
come knocking
down the corridor
and i hold she as me
in our striped stained bed
crying hush to those
howling dogs of war

04 Aug 25

imagine

to fall out of lifetime
into dream embraces
and forget an outside
imagine

careful, clouds
glide against ever blue
falling up into the you
imagine

lost roads in drift
over the hills and
far away, a heaven to
imagine

20 Jul 25

gone to heath

my head has gone to heath
mottled stone of lichen
passing steel or passing sun

under rain and dampening
cold the wind whistles wending
through the heath stones
that make of my head

slender spaces shimmer quiet
thin be'twixt and 'tween
here upon my hillock of dream

11 Jul 25

thievery

woman wearing black jacket holding pink flowers — *Photo by Anastasiya Lobanovskaya on Pexels.com*

wearing other’s faces
i saw you stealing kisses
the consummate thief 
you are

but i can see through
your disguise and lies
i can see a million miles
away

you know? it made me laugh
left laughing ‘til morning came
i tip my hat at your
audacity

09 Jul 25

bulwark

*Photo by Marjoline Delahaye on Unsplash*

while everyone is singing
their empire songs, we
slip away to the night

there is no trust for
the watchmen watching
with halberd's shining
white in the spotlights,
their axes at our necks

we could be heroes, too
a bulwark against
the storm, but first...
a kiss before dying

08 Jul 25

oyasute

they oxcart me
into deep wood
to cover me
with leaves

"a blanket,"
they say
"to keep you
warm at night,"
they say
before they
drift off in
the way of
autumn maple,
scarlet against
the frost

it is the guilt
that makes
them so
but
this is where
i belong.

07 Jul 25

she winters

black wooden fence on snow field at a distance of black bare trees — *Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com*

she winters...

growing colder
as nights draw longer
she ice shaves scrape
her nails white & blue

alone in
her crystal room
to ash her hair
at least none dare
to slip beyond
the chill

because here is where
she winters
and winter here
she does still

06 Jul 25

with night

conceptual portrait of hands with red thread — *Photo by Amirhossein Kianbakht on Pexels.com*

lips curve the crest of breast
jasper ocean eyes to drown
carving thigh lace with night

wordless of the wind sigh
for fingertipped dew glides
riding of the moon with night

05 Jul 25