I’m not a skin walker, not in the old way. Rather I am the skin, the vessel, a ferry for bodiless beings showing up on the doorstep of my imagination.
I am the channel–a voice for the four-footed for the winged for the furred for the finned for the scaled voices that haunt my dreams.
Solemn spirits hold as much a presence in my inner life as the string of broken-winged birds, crooked-eyed cats, and three-legged dogs making themselves to home in my house.
