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Category Archives: Ferryman
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
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
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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
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the necessary fee
The ferryman spits and reaches into the water where the roots of an old tree gnarl the bank. He pulls out my head by the hair. Just that – my head and nothing else. My hair is laced with weed … Continue reading
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this work in progress
The Ferryman is stretched out on the dock, hands behind his head, face to the sky. The river sings softly, laps the dock, rocks the boat in its moorings. There will be no crossing today. I turn away, content with … Continue reading
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exchange
The Ferryman is rowing hard through stormy waters. I sit tucked up tight with my head ducked away from the wind and spray. I wonder if it’s worth it to go out in all this weather. Does it make sense … Continue reading
just wait
“What’s this?” There’s a bridge across the river, where there was none before. A stone bridge, arching over. It surprises me. Why would the Ferryman allow this? It crowds him out. Crowds his service. I wouldn’t think he would like … Continue reading
now go to bed
The ferryman stands, spits to the side, walks the length of the dock to me, his feet making a hollow thud on the soft wood. I am bedraggled. There’s mud in my hair. He shakes his head sadly, asks for … Continue reading
river bottom
From the firelight into the water ~ The river bottom mud is soft and still. It calls to me. I think I might lay the weight of me down there a while. But no, the river flow has me, lifts … Continue reading
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dream stories 