Second Edition of Crow book, March 2012

Dreaming of a True World A Opchine Wala Ohkon by Ed Little Crow  is now available in a FULL COLOR, special print edition. With a new afterword by Jaimie Bernhagen. Just released ... March 2012!

This NEW edition is now widely available for distribution to booksellers, libraries and schools everywhere. 
FULL COLOR, hard copy edition    $18

 EBOOK $8   
eBook hEre

KINDLE !!  $6

The original black and white edition
       still available here $12    

 books available at as well!! **

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** please note: Ordering through is available, but royalties are considerably higher when you order directly from us, at Wild Embers, via Createspace. Buying from us directly gives all of Embers authors 50% more royalties than other outlets!  xoxox

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Dreaming of a True World A Opchine Wala Ohkon, is a collection of poems, stories and memories by Ed Little Crow, Lakota/Dakota veteran of the American Indian Movement/the Seige of Wounded Knee, 1973  and member of the Elder's Council in Southern Oregon.

“Eddie Little Crow is a revered elder, father, bundle keeper and friend. His teachings come from a long unbroken line of traditions that guide him in his daily life. Growing up in the Native way, he continues to pass on knowledge, run ceremonies and counsel those who are in need.    This book, A Opchine Wala Ohkon (Lakota for dreaming of a true world)  is one of the culminations of his long walk on the Red Road.”   --Dan Wahpepah, Anishinabe/Kickapoo, Sac and Fox Drumkeeper, co-founder of Red Earth Descendants (Ashland, Or)

These are Little Crow's writings and thoughts about the world as we find it now, the world as he knew it when he was young. "Dreaming"  is a quintessential journey into the borderlands of human survival. Included are his poems from the 1980's and 90's, previously unpublished stories about the American Indian Movement, and commentaries about "being Indian", all transcribed from Little Crow interviews conducted in Ashland, Or. 2006.

Book includes tribute to Dave Chief (RIP 1929-2005), Lakota, photos by antoinette nora claypoole and  old AIM images donated by Robert Robideau (RIP Feb. 2009). 

Sharon Doubiago, Oregon Literary Arts “poetry book of the year” award winner, praises Little Crow's new work: 

“If I had a horse I would ride
To the thundering fall 
To taste the brother hood floating free in this land of our seed....               
 There are no elders anymore to make predictions or prophecies to teach people,
especially young people, children, how to live in this alienation….  

 But Ed Little Crow is our elder and he is teaching us here in his words and thoughts collected by Wild Embers” 

photos/intro  by antoinette nora claypoole
archived AIM images donated by Robert Robideau, Anishinabe/Ojibway (RIP Feb. 2009)

stories, poems, memories
by Ed Little Crow

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Wild Embers author Ed Little Crow included in "Wisdom of the Elders" Project

Aug. 2011...

and see Crow,  here. 

you will find words that collect in your heart like fireflies, lighting the night.

---a. nora claypoole, editor Wild Embers
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About the author:
Ed Little Crow is Lakota, Dakota member of the Elders Council in S. Oregon, veteran of the Seige of Wounded Knee, 1973, father and poet. His years as a quiet, steady force in the Oregon communities within which he has lived, worked and prayed have etched themselves into the psyche of all he meets.  

 His new, first book A Opchine Wala Ohkon (means "dreaming of a True World"in Lakota) is a small collection of his poems, stories and memories as gathered from his days in Eugene and Ashland, Oregon.

"Within the cages of life"
from Dreaming of a True World
by Ed Little Crow

A light with in glows
We see vision
As in our cloth beds
We dream
Of a time in history
When before us a quality of life
That once came to us
From nature
So at a time in life
Chained to a reality

Like as in prison
Life as we have know it
Passes us by
As we find ways to survive
The way of life which has endured remains forever
Forgive me
For this is to much
I am a Indian soul
Trapped blocked by concrete forms
And chaotic carelessness
Listen and you can hear my ancestors
Voicing their discontent at the broken hoop
A tribe with out a golden dream
I am in a old state
With out a eagle
Only the foreshadowing of clouds against the sun
from the dissolution of a broken promise
A lonely cell
A dim bar
An unmarked grave
A lonely figure , uncertain, afraid
An object of alcohol jail, prisons and drugs a social misfit
An object of abuse and social scorn
Accepted only in handsome dress
And appearance
An object of judicial tongue lashing
Law and social abuse
I am a Indian soul trapped in a pale obscurity
I had an american dream
Until the memory of that dream
Turned into a nightmare
A savage
I was

In the rising sun
Baptized , civilized, Christianized
I have nowhere to go
If I had horse I would ride
To the thundering falls
To taste the brother hood floating free in this land
Of our seed
For there is no rainbow
In this country of displacement
The woman of my long waiting is with me now
On one autumn night the only woman I will ever love
Will lay in a peaceful sleep
Dreaming of a true world of right to come
As in a world of dissolution
We forgive
The people who believe
That each are trapped in a social net
Forgive the young
For tomorrow is just as much theirs as it is ours
And we want to do the right
Just passing through
People don’t want to believe
The badness and abuse
Or that all of america
Is being destroyed
Both north and south
Land ripped open left unhealed
Forests decimated
Or turned into artificial tree farms
Rivers, lakes, and oceans
Are being polluted
Asphalt concrete and plastic jungles
Of European culture
Are leaving behind decaying ruins filled with the rejected sectors
of human society
A thundering that no longer clashes
Because of an Indian soul longing to be free

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from his new book "A Opchine WaLa Ohkon: Dreaming of a True World"

from Dreaming of a True World
by Ed Little Crow

"Before the Greedy Ones"

When I think about when I was young I think about when my grandparents lived free, to hunt and fish when and where they chose. Sitting by the fire telling stories of long ago of the good hunt that has long since gone ho Tunkashila!

I long for the life of yesterday long since forgotten . 
Camp fires, stories from the elders of wars forgone , braves, 
warriors, chiefs, long forgotten.
When you speak of times long forgotten 
you speak of my people as they were before the coming of the greedy ones.

When the trees were tall, the grass was green, and the ground was rich and free.
Like the people who lived on it. Rich in freedom, free in spirit, with the will to live as they always have! Campfires burning in the water night like the streets of the city, with  its lights and artificial heat.
Caught between two times 
passing through knowing 
and not knowing 
of the life of long ago. 
Trying to do what I must. 
Always wrong. 
Thinking of Tunkashila and long ago cooking on a wood stove. Home made bread , hunting and good winter, spring and the passing of a season . City bars and talk of going back. Tradition long lost . 
Come and talk with me of our past.
Are we Indians or just a memory of a burning campfire?

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photo:  "Ed at First Nations Day, Ashland, Or. 2006"  by antoinette nora claypoole 

"Reality has fallen in our US"

We have a world where we exploit one another
To make one another and ourselves look good
It is certain that all people need spiritual nourishment
For their spirit
People come from a culture with a meaningless set of values
A set of standards they can not control
I think that I have done enough for reality and purpose
We cannot find a cure for that
Like the lack of openness and knowledge
They don't come with directions
People have to have courage and honor
A life of culture
Like today looking from yesterday
A life that is being removed
By a reality that is unreal
From the far corners of my mind
I look for answers
To save my world from the invaders of life
For I have no magic
So my human weakness is too strong
Unlike yours
Its all I have left to protect the life I have
In your time of life
You love the family
So with our father the sun in our face
From the East somes the dawn of a new day
Our brothers and sisters are sleeping
Awaiting the coming of our mother the night
Old ways, ancient ways of another time
Be kind to your modern relative
Then there comes a breath of life
In a dream of peace like a change of life
These words and others pass by your eyes
That this day has its roots
In the nourishing soil
Of our Mother

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 PHOTO: "Ed at First Nations Day, Ashland, Or. 2006"  by antoinette nora claypoole