Kristen Henderson
Goodreads Author
Born
in Paterson, NJ
Member Since
August 2015
Kristen Henderson hasn't written any blog posts yet.
More books by Kristen Henderson…
“Once lively peonies now
wind-weary, and ragged
at the edges, hang their heavy
crowns; rain on their backs,
one final act, before
detaching from the stem
and falling down.”
―
wind-weary, and ragged
at the edges, hang their heavy
crowns; rain on their backs,
one final act, before
detaching from the stem
and falling down.”
―
“Oblong stones sink
slow and sideways. Shaped
by the weight of waves,
dutifully vibrating nature’s
lunar-bound graces,
they wash ashore only for
closed palms to forsake them.
The cheerful will
cherish them, place them
on windowsills, or on graves.”
― Of My Maiden Smoking
slow and sideways. Shaped
by the weight of waves,
dutifully vibrating nature’s
lunar-bound graces,
they wash ashore only for
closed palms to forsake them.
The cheerful will
cherish them, place them
on windowsills, or on graves.”
― Of My Maiden Smoking
“Would it be enough to rock on a stormless sea with each our separate memories tuned to the state of the sinking sun?”
― Drum Machine
― Drum Machine
“There used to be trees in the untended park below the old married couple of windows in my living room.”
― Drum Machine
― Drum Machine
“Even the bees I'd swear were sent to protect us in the delicate business of hives and honey are stung to silence by the news that something winged has lost its flight.”
― Drum Machine
― Drum Machine
“what if there was an uncanny moment when all the birds were grounded from Cape Town to Juneau, and everywhere between--all feathers frozen in a universal stutter, so quick as to make a snail of light, and even Stephen Hawking's mind would miss it?”
― Drum Machine
― Drum Machine
“Sure, I watched the workmen come and lower large pieces of rotten sheetrock and lift new clean panels on a pulley
from that same window months ago, and I could have written then, but I must have sensed her coming, the smoker, so I waited.”
― Drum Machine
from that same window months ago, and I could have written then, but I must have sensed her coming, the smoker, so I waited.”
― Drum Machine