Ruminations

Ruminations

Ian Brunner

Ian Brunner

Forward

glimpse into how I see the world and how I see Farie. Once you
descend into that rabbit hole though, its hard to stop seeing the things

Ruminating in the lands of Farie

This collection of poetry has slowly come together over the past three

that prowl around, just outside of our vision. You might come back
changed.

the creation of the title piece Ruminations. In our Advanced Poetry

My writing contains quotes and allusions to Maggie Stiefvater's: The

Raven Cycle, J. R. R Tolkien's: The Lord of the Rings, Sierra Online's:
Quest For Glory, Failbetter Games': Fallen London, and Welcome To
Night Vale.

Workshop the other students and I noticed that our poetry tended to be

Id love to hear any feedback on these pieces you can contact me at

in conversation with each other. This prompted the class to create a

IanBrunn@Buffalo.Edu

group chapbook entitled The Eureka Moment.

Twitter.com/IanBrunnerNy

Now that I have graduated and continued to write Ive found that many of

IanBrunnersWriting.Tumblr.com

years, beginning in my intermediate poetry class and culminating with

the pieces Ive created over time have a dialouge of their own with each
other. Ive always had an interest in Faerie stories. Early on, in fifth grade
I remember stumbling upon Tolkiens, The Fellowship of the Ring, and
Susan Coopers, The Dark is Rising Sequence. As I continued my
education Ive found myself stuck in the liminal space of faerie stories.
Liminal is a word meaning the space between two rituals. The easiest
way I can explain it is the two times between night and day. Dawn and
dusk. Farie stories always take place in these spots. Whether it be the
crossing of bridge, or the edge of a dark forest, these places mark the
boundry of our world and that of Faerie.
When I look at the world I see it as it is, but I also look for those
transitional spaces. That texting stop on the throughway might be an In
between place. Just as the stairs might be. In these spaces my
imagination can run wild. Sometimes it turns into a story. Other times it
becomes a poem. Here you can see a collection of my work that allows a

And sleeps at night

Did you know

What

rooms get bigger in the dark?

Do They?

A
Waste.

Yes, of course they do!

Do you think people get bigger in the dark too?
Of course they do. Thats why the deep thoughts come at night.
The souls midnight
It can be cruel to wake a child from a nightmare.
Half-dreams
Half-remembered
Take away the mystery,
The wonder,
The magic;
And what are you left with?
A dreamer,
Who dreams by day,

Where do I

Like A Universe

Look next?
Im bigger inside than I appear.

I am feeling sepe

But feel smaller than I am.

rate

How like a universe we are,

from myself
Pushing out

and

infinitely

the world.

ButGrowingEverInwardly.

I used to be so
Spiritual
so vibrant.
Bilbo sang,

Home is behind,
the world ahead.
and there are
many
paths
to
tread.

I long to sail
Into The West.
I need to find
home again
But if I cant
find home here.

wards

NWES
Enough Of Me

True North?
I think far too much
about where Im going.

I often rise early

Ive got three compasses

on cold mornings.

but none of them quite know

When the sun has not rose and the moon has not set

where True North is.

and the stars seem brighter than normal.

Theres my head that says

You were never my Polaris.

Are these other worlds closer?

Or is the sky simply darker?
Each star

True North?

A gem

But then theres

Fighting a little battle among the

my heart

void.

which never

True North?
And then theres
my soul
which says

agrees

love is

with what my head

I would like to think

LEngle was right.

what happens

has to say.

when youre not

To make them

paying attention.

speak

I wonder If there is
a home?
Out there

We were

the same language

just two

is like being able to

narcissists, afraid to be alone

explain love.

somewhere?
Or if there is even room for me,

trying to keep each other alive.

True North?

here?

And I know I'll never solve

the puzzle.

Theres so much world to see.

Ive got a wandering soul

And simply

and we both grew

not

apart. We were
so full of holes
E

e.

g
f

the whisky poured right out.

But still I cant help but think of you as
the lantern in the window that leads me home.
The light you promised
would never go out.

Sharp Edges

nor am I a
machine.

Do we hear our own thoughts?

Are they even our own?
Where do they come from
and to where do they go?
I want to be
seen as

A clockwork contraption
of moving pieces.
That will eventually
fail me
like all great heroes
whose swords
break.

I
am.
Machines fail
The true

but thoughts

face of my

whatever they may be

thoughts.

I hope

All the crooked, sharp

last.

jutting angles.
The contradictions
and emotions
and not the lies
we tell ourselves.

I hope
that when you
brush against me
physically
emotionally

in writing

am a

or life

boy pretending to

I cut you

be an adult.

and you cut me.

Whose sharp edges

have been dulled
by forays into the seas of
life and time.
I
am
not my body

In Between Times

I prefer the

I prefer the

In between times.

In between times.

Where I can truly see the colors of other worlds

that have always seemed more real,

Before the first person awakes,

bleed through.

and after the last person has closed their eyes,

resting after the hustle and bustle of the day.
I prefer the

In between times.

I prefer the

In between times.
Because during these times
the world is so unnaturally

Where I can rise from bed

Still.

and be still.

so unnaturally still

Make myself a cup of strong dark tea,

you know there has to be something more.

almost as bitter as I am
and sit in my dining room
looking through the window to outside.

I prefer the

The early half light or late twilight

washing all color from the world.

In between times.

Painting the world as it really is

Dull.

Because like me,

Gray.

on the outside,

Mundane.

I am still.
But inside,

It is during these times

I am raging.

my imagination works best.

Against this bleak backdrop

I prefer the

I can see
Magic,
Faeries,
Adventure.

In between times.

Caught between two worlds

The King or The Magician

because like them

I am still.
But with the promise of something more.

I want to know
what is more

broken.

The ground we
stand upon.
Or the

disconnected

soul we never manage

to hide.
The world could be(is)

going to
Hell

outside of myself
but the universe
that my cells make up
doesnt seem to care.
They know
that we are
creatures of

impossible
flesh and blood

who lucked out (did we?)

We spin on an impossibly
small island
at just the right point
in an impossibly large
sea of

time

hurtling through the tides

far too

quickly to

be held together
the lack of gravity

should rip

us apart.

Mind The Gap

That is how I know

there are

The King

secrets.

or

I need to stop fantasizing about running away to some other life and start
figuring out the one I have. -Holly Black, The Darkest Part of the Forest

The Magician

Rex corvus, parate regis corvi.

He was a miracle of
moving parts,

Here in this place

the Echo Bazaar.

a complicated thing,

a wonder of muscles and organs,

Anything and everything

can and

will be found.
Among the tents

synapses and nerves.

or in a pocket

a study in survival
lurking in the darkness
or in the mind.
I would not be surprised
to find a acorn
from Spielbergs Dryad

or to see a Katta
from far- off

Shapir

a Liontaur from Fricana

or to encounter Avoolz
from dark Mordavia.
Here in this place
the remnants of other worlds
seem to touch and meet
mingling into a grotesque parody
of all things.
Lovecraftian and Farie,
religious or magical
modern and steampunk
youll never quite know
what waits for you.

I wonder if this Echo Bazaar

The Fear That Was No Longer There

Is a bizarre echo
of Terra.

I Wonder,

Where adventure

Where

is not too far away.

I,

Where most people

was?

just accept the strangeness

When the leaves gleamed maroon and gold

that comes our way.

but the snow glimmered like stars

still and

There is always the manifest world

knee deep.

but lurking somewhere

beneath

Just

it

You

the Echo Bazaar

and

London Below

Dark Matter

and

and Shadow Universes

the feeling of

all the Nows and Nevers

Waldeinsamkeiten.

Realities and Unrealities

if one only has eyes to see them.

But then the

Mind

the

gap

Unknown Entity
appeared,
atop the hill
with its deerlike body
and upside down canine head,
antlers growing which way?
It was then that I told you to run
from the fear that was no longer there
but still
I wonder,
I wonder.

Disconnected Narcissism
For the first time in my life,
when I ask God for something.
Pray,
even though I dont know if
It
is out there
real,
or even
listening.
I at least have someone else
to pray for.
When I look back on the
past couple of years.
I notice that Ive
lost a few friends.
I hope theyre
happy
moved on
or at least
at peace.
I dont know if there is
life after death
a Heaven,
or Hell
but I do know the
world
is much darker without them.
I was always in a
rush
to be
independent
but now Im at an age where
my friends,
are either dying

or
getting married.
and still
I feel alone.
I wonder if this
feeling,
is unique to me.
or do all
humans
feel this
disconnected?

Somehow,
even when I start out
thinking of others.
It always circles,
around back to
me.

Perhaps Im just not meant to be happy.

Ruminations
I dont think the loneliness is the worst part.

Entreat me not to leave thee,

Or return from following after thee
For whither thou goest, I will go,
And where thou lodgest, I will lodge.

I think its worse

when you finally make a

true friend
Because when you make that kind of connection

I guess I have a romanticised view of friendship.

Which is probably unhealthy

whether it be a day

but when I was little the books I read

or years.

always had a protagonist with a friend.

Someone they would run with and had their back.

The marks of loneliness disappear

almost immediately.

This was something I always longed for

so whenever I made a good friend,

It washes from your body like dirt from skin.

which hasnt happened very often,

You feel lighter

I would think of them as my

like the ghost that has been haunting you

Parabatai
my
Nakama.

pulling on your shoulders,

weighing
you
down

It probably had more serious connotations for me

even when I explained the words to them.
I always had hope after every summer

has finally moved on.

The crows feet fill in
and your skin clears.

Maybe this will be the year.

It all happens so quickly.

Maybe I wont be alone.

But going from grade to grade
I found that not much changed.
The years passed
and I grew more empty

Whats worse is when the friend leaves.

When you show them all of you
and you trust that they will understand
and they try.
Oh how they try

others laughed (with each other) around me.

I dont think its their fault
and I dont know if its mine.
Perhaps Im just not likeable.

But in the end

you are not enough
or they arent.

Youre too broken

Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.

or they just grow tired.

Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.

The Angel do so to me, and more also,
If aught but death part thee and me.

Sometimes it happens coldly

Brutally.
Most times you just drift apart.

Id like to think this concept could be true.

That people can be

But thats when you realize

being alone wasnt so bad before.

Parabatai
and
Nakama.

You could deal with it

because you had never known anything better.
But after...

But what terrifies me

is this kind of
Love

a disease you have no antibodies for.

They came in and built you up.
Only to topple you with a few words.
There can be no quick recovery from that.
Only the small teetering steps of a child

may not exist.

Whether it be
Platonic
or
Romantic.

wandering alone, without a hand to hold.

The weight of these feelings can be crushing,
numbingly unbearable.
Id like to say all of us who have felt this way
make it back to who we were.
But it seems that the deeper you go

That the only person we can ever count on

is ourself
and in the end
We
die
alone.

the colder you become.

Its a defense mechanism
I think.
I dont think its a blessing.

I hope what William Herondale said was true.

That life and death are divided by a great river
and that I will wait for you to meet me there,
or you will wait for me.
And together
we will walk into the next life.
Hand-in-hand.

If I Had A Choice

I may want to die.

This is not all

If I had a choice,

that there can be.

I would never choose this world.

I will not accept this peacefully.

With its sun so bright,

For late at night

and music fair,

or before sunrise.

the sound of childrens laughter

I can see the other worlds there.

in the air.
Not far off
Although there are wonders to be found

but not close by.

upon the Earth,

Where angels sing

and in the the ground.

and demons lie.

Among the waters of the sea,

Faries dance

in the deeps that reach

and tricks they play.

to eternity.

I hear their music through the day.

At night, Welcome it seems to say.

In the night

I reach my hand out,

where lovers lie.

to their world.

Below the moon

looking for a door,

where they do sigh.

a way.

Where a single kiss

To make their place my own,

can mean a brush with death.

to become more than what I know.

I must admit,

To defeat this apathy I feel,

there are wonders left.

But still,
But still,

I know it isnt real.

if I had a choice,

They come in dreams

I cannot lie.

both waking and at night.

This world was never meant for I.

Tell me to keep fighting

With its wonders seen and unseen to the eye.

the good fight.

But still I know if I had a choice,

I wake each morning

and do not cry.
Although I think,

Id make their world my home

and cease forever more to roam.

Meditations On Encountering Baba Yaga

1.The first time I encountered Baba Yaga, I was much younger than I

Note the L

What is a practical

am now. I dont remember what age I was, but I do remember it was the

definition of Love?

Fourth of July. This particular Fourth of July was damp and dismal, so an uncle

I was asked by a friend.

who is no longer an uncle introduced me to a computer game. It was called

Quest For Glory, and in this fictional world named Gloriana, there was a
particular corner of Spielburg Forest where Baba Yagas hut waited. For some
reason, of all the magic in this world, this particular spot stayed with me.

I always believed it was

a chemical cocktail.
A mixture of body processes
that make us feel good.

2. Now Ive lived in the same house for twenty-three years. You can sit
on the porch, look straight ahead and see the lower yard that leads into the
woods. To the left and the right the rest of the twelve acres lay waiting. After
that fateful Fourth of July I would swear to you that I had seen Baba Yagas
hut among the trees from time to time. I believe that day is what led me to
spirituality.
3. Little me didnt think twice to question what I had seen. To a childs

But my friend
described it as

Any state I
wish to prolong.
Perhaps that is why

eyes the world is full of magic. Thats just a fact. A fact we as adults somehow

He and I

start to forget as we live our lives. Science tells us that there are three

are out of love

dimensions and time but it also tells us that what we can see is less than five

with life.

percent of the matter that makes up the universe. So when someone tells me

We are still searching for

that there isnt room for spirituality and science to exist side by side I just think

sustainable sources of joy.

of that ninety-five percent. In fact the two are probably leading to the same
place.

I dont believe in
Love
4. The question remains to this day, did I see Baba Yagas hut among

but

the trees? I would argue both yes and no. When someone says God led me

I do believe in

down this path, I dont really see a difference from what my younger eyes

love.

saw. I dont believe the world is merely three dimensions and neither do they.
We all want to escape the box of three dimensions. There is something other
than what we can perceive and were all searching for that other. The trick is to
not lose the wonder of this world while wondering about the other.

Self
I have never really believed in the idea of a

Self.
I am so many broken parts of art Ive seen,
words Ive heard,
and lives Ive wanted.
I read for
magic,
adventure,
release.
But instead I just confuse my

Self.
more.
Who am I?
Who are you?
Are we all
one consciousness?
gods?
Experiencing reality?
Or are we individuals
rotting and dying?
Waiting for something
more
that will never come.
Either way it doesnt really matter.
Im sick of your problems and mine
but in the end it doesnt really matter
when,
we,
die.

The Red Capes Are Coming

Not all heroes wear masks or capes. Sometimes, devils can

come from above and sometimes, heroes from below. Good is a point of
view and perhaps there isnt such a thing as Good. Like how there is no
such thing as cold, only less hot. Perhaps, there is only less bad. We can
never reach perfection although its something we have to strive for.
We do not need a Caped Crusader or Man of Steel to ensure our
safety, only honest people being honest. Instead we brand the wrong
people with the label of False God. We tell ourselves that someone
else will step up. That someone else will be the hero we need, but I for
one am getting tired of waiting. Who would you call a hero? Because I
need to know whose movement to join. The red capes are coming I
hope.

New Miracles

Platonically Weird

Lovecraft wrote: The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear. And

Before I met you

the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.

the scenery of my mind

consisted of skeletal trees.

Most people would say one of the major aspects of happiness

Barren,

is not being afraid.

Dull,

But what happens when

and Gray.

Science

I have experienced hauntings

has shown us all there is?

although,

When the excitement of the deep, dark places of the Earth

I may have been more of a ghost

have gone lackluster?

than whatever haunting haunted me.

Will we ever be content?

Will we ever not be hungry and greedy for new miracles?
I dont know about you
but I get bored easily.
Sure, I can appreciate

Its hard to see in color

when loneliness is the main hue
on your pallet.
I have had many friends

the wind on my face or a sunset

over many times,

but when I think about being born too late to explore the world

but none that have stained me.

and too early to explore space

Perhaps,

I get greedy for

because time isnt real and

new miracles.

were all doomed to fade

back to wherever we came from.

Sometimes I think the only way to stay

excited

But for now

and in a way

I have you in all your oddity

happy

experiencing every oddity with me.

Is to be
afraid.

A single blossom,
a color never seen before,
contrasting with the skeletal trees.

Weird at last,
weird at last.
God Almighty,
weird
at
last.