Kristen Henderson

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Would it be enough to rock on a stormless sea with each our separate memories tuned to the state of the sinking sun?

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She was so cool, as she knew, ankles crossed at the puckered hem of granite gray sweatpants, and she also knew I was watching from the open doorof the B train—watching her pose in apparent comfort at the girder of this city thoroughfare

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we’re not even really hiking,more like meandering in cinematic light

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Dear Anonymous, I've got a secret I know you can keep it because you don't really exist....This is what shapes you, this is what makes you as authentic as you are fake

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Once, I took the penny whistle you gave me and discovered a spotby the roaring falls where I could play as loud as I wanted. I lay in the bifurcated trunkof a low-slung birch tree. The sun peeked through applauding leaves, high overhead