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Author Archives: lbk
ring of oaks
I give thanks for the ring of oaks that encircles me. First, guardian of the left hand, the gate of sleep and dreaming. Second, guardian of the right hand, the gate of work and craft. Third, guardian of the brow, … Continue reading
Posted in dreaming
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singing gratitudes
The Ferryman paints rays of red and black rising from my eyes, arching across my brow. He runs his finger down the memory braid the Wellspring left in my hair. “Now you’re ready,” he says. I lift my arms, face … Continue reading
Posted in Ferryman
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what comes of this
I walk out from the garden, wanting to be among the buffalo. My feet find an easy path and I follow it up a small rise to a gnarled old tree. The herd is before me, lingering at the shore … Continue reading
Posted in Buffalo Man
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to see the life come into all of this
I am trying to cultivate a garden on my bank of the river. I have laid down rich soils and fenced off the rows, but the hot wind off the plain keeps leaching all the moisture out. I stand with … Continue reading
Posted in Buffalo Man, Ferryman
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Incarnation
We were on the side of a mountain, preparing for something big. A man came to a small house all alone. There was a kind of disturbance of air about him. Or about me when I came near him. I … Continue reading
Posted in dreaming
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The mouth of something larger
The bear touches my chest, combs his claws through my hair, breathes into me. “You are always resting your head in the mouth of something larger,” he says. “This is the way with you.” OOO
Posted in Bear
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Curious Joy and Infinite Love
A Creation Story There have been countless risings and fallings, each beginning believing itself to be the first, though always and ever there was before. Curious Joy awoke into wind and darkness. He believed himself to be the first and … Continue reading
Posted in Divine Light
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I wish to say thank you
It was snowing. I was driving a small car to a place I didn’t know how to get to. I’d forgotten my luggage and my feet were cold. My breath fogged the windshield. There were chunks of ice in the … Continue reading
Posted in dreaming
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lost in the tableau
The girl is lost in the tableau of her life. She has forgotten everything that moves. She is a log, a clod, a swale, swatches of color, the sky between branches. OOO
Posted in dreaming
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polish the vase
What does waiting look like? Outside the winds of desolation moan. The freeze scutters and blanks the world. Do not stand at the window straining to see through the blow to what is coming after. Sweep the hearth, tend the … Continue reading
Posted in Seasons
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dream stories 