Life is round. Layered. Achy. Hot. Scratchy. Fluid. Tiresome. Tremendous.
We come here to see ourselves,
free ourselves;
tell our stories and defy them.
In the bosom of the woods,
where spells are spoken
and spells are broken
be with me.
Most indispensably,
be with you.
i’ll be kissing stones, counting metaphors, and playing with matches.
By “matches” I mean scanning my interior against my exterior for coordinating elements...noting how and if they relate. Counting threads. I tug anything that dangles and deepens my attention, until the gift of inquiry shakes my hand and licks my face. My game is one of radical trust and a hunt for openings. The poet worships openings the way a cow worships grass. Anyone whose craft it is to straddle the middle, the liminal space between the inner and outer woods understands this. As a lady of the middle, I occupy time drawing parallels, observing patterns, listening beyond ears, seeing beyond eyes, pressing inward, and waiting for the fruit to drop through that hole in the top of the sky.
i’ll be in the woods
peeling my bark off,
believing the unseen,
telling about it. 
with conviction,
because what you believe is what you see and what you see is what you will believe.
i’ll be in the woods
rotating paradigms while
making stone pile prayers—chuckle
at the dance of deliberate nonchalance
my childhood taught me.
This is how we coax bear out from dreams and pet the painted eagle.
This is how we braid the lion’s mane who ripped apart our seams.
It’s an efficacious collection
of recipes;
full of everything and nothing
—all at once—
possible,
when promises
are kept
in the place beyond our fears,
in the heart inside our ears.
— akka b.
join me for a spell
of writing magic; grieving magic; death and birth magic; ancestral magic; nature magic; spirit magic, and healing heart magic. In this container I empty my pockets and infuse my findings into poems, prose, story-sharing, voice-recordings, photos, and channeled sketches. You are invited to rummage my collections and hopefully, be stretched, stirred, and drawn deeper into your own personal meaning; deeper into your own sacred woods.
Who is Akka B?
Painting of Me by Molly Brolin
A big-hearted introvert with extroverted proclivities. I’ve been broken open—a lot—so of course I talk to spirits, sleep with stones, look like moss, and lucid-dream. I anthropomorphize everything. Involuntarily clairaudient, sporadically clairvoyant, and routinely claircognizant; I can also be impatient, pushy, prone to hide away for long periods of self-reflection, over-reaching, overwhelmed, avoidant, too slow, too fast, stubborn, quirky, imaginative, lazy, laughing, loyal, loving, and brave.
I’m a healer, working undercover as a writer; dedicated to understanding how one breaks, how one feels, and how one heals. What a long strange trip it has been…
There’s much to spell.
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