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Author Archives: lbk
she is free
There is light in the wood, I can see through the trees. I still stand holding Deer Man’s hand. I am everywhere at once. The bear climbs a tall pine and makes it sway. I stretch all the way back … Continue reading
Posted in Deer Man
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Please don’t leave me
We are deep in the wood still, far from the river, small pale breathers in a tight woven darkness. I turn to the Ferryman. “Do not leave me. Every moment has its crossing, its stillness and turbulence. Do not leave … Continue reading
Deer Man holds out his hand
We are on the far shore, deep in the green, standing still. We have come to a place of not moving. There is no clear path ahead, the green is all a tangle. I sense the river behind me, but … Continue reading
Posted in Deer Man
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April says: Walk with me
April comes to me without hesitation. She is a cloud, a billow, the tender wafting scent of something not quite here. And then there she is, standing before me in overalls and an old plaid shirt, her uncombed hair a … Continue reading
Posted in Seasons
4 Comments
we star the dark
It is dark, the deep end of evening. I stand at the river’s edge, the garden lush and green around me. I can hear the breeze through leaves. I can smell the yearning into the air. Suddenly, I hear the … Continue reading
Posted in Buffalo Man, Ferryman
3 Comments
March leaves messages
I cannot begin to speak the broad and foaming madness that is March, hard certainties everywhere broken by slight green impossibilities. He will not meet me. I plan ahead, arrange the time and place, and when I get there he … Continue reading
plenty
The Ferryman is dancing a jig, high knees and fancy feet. He is flinging something out of his pockets into the river. “Plenty for everyone,” he sings. “Plenty, plenty.” He is attracting fish. He is attracting a crowd on the … Continue reading
February is THIS
I lie down. The world is full of crack and sparkle. The sound of laughter. February is an imp, a trickster. She is dancing over my body with her tiny feet. “I cannot wait to open my presents,” she declares. … Continue reading
Posted in Seasons
5 Comments
enthusiasm
I go to the Wellspring. She sits golden and serene, the water of light flowing up through her and out the top of her head, falling back into itself, an endless return. She is in me, the Wellspring is, everything … Continue reading
Posted in Night Hawk, Wellspring
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my provider
I’m still standing in the river, singing. Birds fly from my fingers. The wind blooms flowers in my hair, my arms and hands, and carries the perfumed petals away into the deep wood. Birds rise from the canopy and descend. … Continue reading
dream stories 