I perched there - my hands, my words, undelivered, on the edge of the porch - I could not be otherwise, though you were a hand's-breadth, (a breath's-breadth) away why leap only to be denuded, disabused of what I'd only hoped your hands had meant? perhaps I've spread the interpretation of your touch ridiculously thin, … Continue reading misinterpretation

down east

it was late November when I drove toward Maine I still hear how the wind tore across the highway, rattling doors and nearly blowing that tired red Buick into the frozen ditch I had second, third - hell sixth thoughts on the other side of the state line, but I kept right on - forward … Continue reading down east

turned earth

I had determined (after the last) to no longer offer up the root of myself let it beat (I thought) for nothing other than to mark the time passing beneath my skin but then hands (so mercilessly capable) dug in and I am as earth freshly turned and raw and the root (remembering yearning) has … Continue reading turned earth


I am a bewilderment of limbs - a profusion of uncomfortable truths - and as a result, am ungainly beside you all twisted fingers and benumbed tongue but lit up inside by fireflies © Sarah Whiteley


crow night's star-dusted feathers drape her blue-black whisperings covering over the green of gloaming in the absence of light I fall to forgetting eyes tight-closed against the possibility of loss feather-tipped unknowing brushes away the dust of hope nothing gold can stay? then I pray in the wake of crow night's flight as she drags … Continue reading untitled


I have never been one for taking the right sorts of chances too wrapped up in what the world thinks what the neighbors would say I forever seem to be making wrong turns down one-way streets stepping back when everyone else leans out over the edge to see you'd think, wouldn't you, that my fears … Continue reading untitled