what has been lost

love remaining half-asked, with an exile's hunger, what have you lost? smoke never stops moving, alters nothing, and leaves irretrievably when exactly does time distill us down to fire? down to accumulated passion? at what point have we traded the marked directions of known constellations for the possible light of far, unseen stars? I carry … Continue reading what has been lost


craving stars, I crept down the crouching hallway, disturbing only moths seeking their own small allowance of light trees sleep, lowering their limbs by fractions as the day subsides, leaving only the incremental gestures of slumber I have had to explain often the peculiar edicts of insomnia, and how it does no good to seek … Continue reading insomnia

taking stock

what matters is this - that there are cranes strolling in the shallows - a silhouetted grace against the sky's dying bloom that the waters of the sound cradle the brilliance that pinkens the hills and wash the dusklight onto shore that chilled feet are soaked in sandy shoes and blue jeans are wet up … Continue reading taking stock


the moon has captured me by the ankles, is crawling through me and I must burst into new surfaces this morning my hands awoke, and for the first time in years, ached to find something other than air beside them but even without the solid press of your arm on mine, I have found wonder … Continue reading untitled

sea glass

I do not need to shine as the stars or rise with the dancers to pivot in unbounded sky I am content to reside in the quiet, unoccupied spaces a long, slow trail of watercolor blue the sigh between the stones and sea to live loose-scattered as glass loved smooth by the waves © Sarah … Continue reading sea glass


I move in a constellation of regret loosely strung stars resemble nothing of my self I climb wide open skies feebly lit lines these nebulous dregs of me bare tracery faint delineation of the time that was mine I light the quiet night in cool rue © Sarah Whiteley