Author Archives: lbk

Bhuvaneshwari

I found the small bottle in a scattering on the ground, flung from a bursting of luggage. It had a round bulb body that I cupped my palm around, curling my hand to make it small enough to support the … Continue reading

Posted in In the wordless parts I dance out my interpretation. | Tagged | 1 Comment

the sky descending

I go to the Wellspring. Everything is dark and still. That golden light glows from her core, the sacral bowl, she holds it, contained. All around is dark and still, iced over. A little ways off, Telling combs her own … Continue reading

Posted in here the solstice found me | 2 Comments

hold nothing

I go to the wellspring. It is not easy. I have been encased in ice, glacial, that pressure, huge, those forces of immobility meeting at the point where I am, my breast bone, shoulders, belly, spine. I have been still, … Continue reading

Posted in she calls me by my name | 1 Comment

immovable

I am in the wood, among the trees, the thin bright aspen, white as bone. I am standing smack up against a tree, like it’s a wall I’ve run into. Forehead, chest, belly – all the hot and the soft … Continue reading

Posted in come home to this | Leave a comment

don’t fly off

I am standing in the basement with two men who have come to help. The dirt floor has gone to mud. We are all looking down. Something is stuck and will not flow. The men agree they’re going to have … Continue reading

Posted in in the house of my grandmother | 4 Comments

all the words unhomed

I am so glad to be here. I am weeping. Tears jewel my hair. I know that I am beautiful. I know that I am. I am draped in midnight blue. The drape of it flows off behind me, infinitely. … Continue reading

Posted in the light that opens in the dusk | 8 Comments

medicine woman

I am underwater. It is black and deep. I lie horizontal just below the surface. There is struggle in my stillness. The surface of the water is covered in a kind of skin like black rubber. I cannot push through … Continue reading

Posted in When I touch the pain I become the pain. And then I remember myself. | 3 Comments

Lest you think I have forgotten

Sometimes I think I have lost my tongue. But it isn’t that. I have journeyed so deep into unknown territory, so far out into the world and the real, where everything is strange and wonderful, quick and momentous; I don’t … Continue reading

Posted in long gone walking | 3 Comments

return

The rider comes on through the gathering dark, leaning into the cold, horse and rider both blowing steam, hoof-fall on hard ground setting a complex beat that wakes and lulls and wakes again. There is wind in the trees, blacker … Continue reading

Posted in a point of nourishment in the fathomless black | 2 Comments

nothing more to be done

She is small and her coat is black. The sky is low and white. She is alone in the woods. Her coat is black and her stockings are black and her boots are black too. Her hands curl into themselves … Continue reading

Posted in the way runs out in winter woods | 2 Comments