©2022 Michael Raven
reaching deep
to clutch the feral
& draw it up to the
rain shattered surface of
an autumn painted lake
deep waters/
[Reblog] 002829 — Courtley Manor
I’ve been remiss in not giving Marcilla a shout out, mostly because I haven’t sure exactly how to go about giving Courtley Manor, a Gothic Sims episodic webcomic, the best kind of reblog treatment. Do I point you to the beginning? Or do I introduce you to it the way I started consumed it (jump in headfirst and hope I float, avoiding bonking my head on anything sharp on the way in)?
I’m opting for the latter, I guess, mostly because I like this “frame”.
Anything can and will happen in this series — don’t say I didn’t warn you.
nightshedding/
©2022 Michael Raven
waking feral forms the shed skin slips slough pulling willow white faces in mirror escapades could i... would i... may i... kiss you tonight? slowly silent her feet move ever chill as night calling her other she comes to me in slumber my dead love comes to me -- she wedded whispers such fog filled breath and fey: shed your skin and slip with me be wisp within the vale everso and evermore everso --
Stretching
©2022 Michael Raven
Fingers stretching, not quite able to grasp onto that object close enough to touch, but not close enough to draw back to you, to pull it in and tuck it inside so that it can burst forth from you like a bright laser light.
That’s how I feel these days. So if any of my writing seemed strained, be assured that this is the act going on while I write, this fingertip dance of trying to get enough friction to roll that ball towards me and swallow it like a red-hot ball of iron, choking it down to burn me from the inside out.
Something is just this close and I cannot seem to take it up and throw it back out.
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!, I shout at the blank wall that I imagine to be a mirror. A tired face stares back, bored with my antics.
I don’t want to talk. Don’t call me. Words are empty.
runepoem | 24 jan 2022
©2022 Michael Raven
neither this nor that neither black nor white these are the wisdom the spirits have gifted to me they laugh although not normally prone to laughter ha ha ha
Note: For the purposes of these runepoems, I randomly select three runes and consider the meanings of each rune as I interpret and understand them based on a number of different resources, which may or may not be in alignment with accepted interpretations. I am a rune enthusiast, not an expert or scholar. These “runecasts” are not intended to be treated as divinatory, although there are elements of personal alchemy and shamanic practice in the crafting of each poem.
freeache/
©2022 Michael Raven
her heart pierced on pinions & crashing against vessel walls her soulself ached to be free from this tangled coil wrapped in tinsel & porcelain kiss
rail/
©2022 Michael Raven
caught in the dream
the train leaving descending
three a.m. boarding
to no place at all
mostly belonging/
©2022 Michael Raven
this is
like returning
to a room
where someone has
shifted everything
just so
mostly where things
belong
but not quite
a trollkin wintering/
©2022 Michael Raven
...and they sang silent in the rimenights fallen mouths agape with the wildingbeasts a callin' sacrifice and solace in wintertide solstice -- what frostjack rends lends be the fire within choirbelt sundered the gloom felled darkly cleaving hoarfrost clannad la faile, 'twixt trollkin stone
thinly/
©2022 Michael Raven
willow
into her eyes
& weave weave weaver
spinning thin
gossamer chain
sceadugenga 
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