Autumn painting in my head

I am stuck on an image after I conjured it in my head a bit ago. It’s one of those pleasant images, a careless thing, and something I don’t often allow myself the liberty to entertain most days. As I’ve gotten older, such things seem both more important than ever, something taken for granted when I was young, and now threatening to be too frivolous for the likes of now-me with my responsibilities and sensible career with it’s sensible salary and sensible benefits.

Here in Minnesota, it seems like my two favorite seasons are always truncated into about a week apiece. Winter turns to summer with a drive-by visit from spring; then, we seem to get another overnight visit from autumn once summer has decided to give up the ghost and fade into winter. It might be my imagination, but that’s honestly how it feels to me. And a short little autumn seems like such a rip-off, if you ask me.

Continue reading →

three runes: ᛗ ᚱ ᛞ

into the trees
a hollow man
following dawn's rays
into midwinter morns
ignoring muttered
madness's sinister side
whispered sacred
secrets on the right
a path of ash and thorn

symbolisms
ᛗ mannaz
ᚱ raido
ᛞ dagaz

ectoplasmic goo

sometimes
being a
ghost
is a
lonely
little
affair

passage

liquid mirror mercuric
one finger ripple clear
echoes and memories
do you remember
those walls built
with bottles and fears?

Twa Corbies || Ayreheart

A nice little arrangement of the traditional song on lute by Ayreheart. I just discovered it, and so now you will as well.

I know zilch about the band, but they seem solid enough — at least on this tune.

learning to fly

having
driven
off
the
edge
of
elevated
highway
overpasses
in
my
dreams
i
have
marveled
at
the
sensation
of
flight
as
i
plummet
in
slow
motion
to
the
earth
below

three runes: ᛃ ᚺ ᛞ

the hag season
can you love her, lover?
wash & worn
warn & torn

twa corbies banter
dancing on ghostwire
laughter at
pale figures
wanderlost
w/thick mantled fog

symbolisms
ᛃ jera
ᚺ hagalaz
ᛞ dagaz

city of night

time to throw away
the guns, sent skittering
down poorly lit avenues
sparks dancing orange
in forever nights, against
the backdrop sodium
flickered jaundice. weary
salad days wilted of
mendacity & illusive
recollective perjury fall
slipstream to the clutter
gutter of the past

unable to muster energy
to fill the metered rage
our protagonist shuffles
out into eternal drizzle
& pervasive grey

pocket lint

patterns chased
half a lifetime
i could swear
i had a skeleton
key on my person

a tapestry emerges
and all i hold
is pocket lint

visual trash

everything is questioned
these days, when you
no longer follow silhouette
fingers moon pointing &
follow tips to the hand to
the arm to the shoulder
to the heart and look back
at the empty void selling
soap and smiles, you
cannot unsee static-
filled television myth

oh, boojum...
are those shadows so
dear? visual trash --
i see what you hide