©2023 michael raven
drawn to simple meals of rustic, crusty breads with grains, beans and greens my family all make faces when i propose such things as they reach for the mac and cheese

words | spirit
©2023 michael raven
drawn to simple meals of rustic, crusty breads with grains, beans and greens my family all make faces when i propose such things as they reach for the mac and cheese
©2023 michael raven
breathing burning sage anxiety drifts away crows outside approve
©2023 michael raven
crossing borders to shadowlands brush with cedar wash with sage cast off shackles as a child again unknowing & bond
for interpretations of each rune, follow this link runes in this poem: dagaz berkana wunjo
©2023 michael raven
is there a point
to smelling something
no one else can smell?
boiled cabbage and
cardboard, best as
i can tell and then...
well, that's another
story to sell, one
nobody will buy
©2023 michael raven
i wish i were as badass as henry rollins but i am afraid i would get all of the hot mics trip-ups and none of the cool shit i might say would ever be heard
©2023 michael raven
burning sage sending prayers to the spirits & ancestors
©2023 michael raven
notification thunderstorms from my phone and i recall days at the lake gliding around in the canoe with the lily pads and their bright yellow blossoms cattails swaying in a gentle wind, dragonflies clinging effortlessly and an otter swimming on his back, nibbling on fish for lunch if i could go there today i am afraid i might toss my little storm out into the deepest part of the lake and forget to paddle home
The above was prompted by life and card XXXIX from the Woodland Wardens oracle deck, “The Otter and Cattail (peace)”.
©2023 michael raven
some days are 'going under days' & this feels like one fade to black, drop out burrow under blankets & shut the world off impossible, of course even upcoming birth anniversaries are no recourse automaton that i am moves on & on & on
©2023 michael raven
everyone loves their
love songs but i
lost all words
for mine, tumbling
out of a samsonite
with broken locks
held together with
duct tape and wire
letters left trailing
behind my train
going no place
in no time at all
by spring i was hollow
so they bound me in
barbed wire
gave me to pasture
for black feathers
who made my heart their
home
©2023 michael raven
tra la-la la-la
her song in the
willows dancing
drawn to earth
moonchild shining
bright with stars
her eyes falling
all around and you
sigh, wishing for
a hand to hold
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