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murmurs: You are the everything

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2015/04/you-are-everything.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Monday, April 27, 2015. You are the everything. In the backseat of the car, their knees just touch. Like the whisper of the wheels on the ribbon of asphalt. Slight enough for intention to be the question dancing across the roof of her mouth. His weight grafts onto hers. She holds it, bravely. Their arms touch, without fanfare, whistling to the shimmy of the car. She swallows. It is. On the car's seat, their pinkies touch. Then more of them. Looking out her window, sh...

sarahhina.blogspot.com

murmurs: Lisa's Garden

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2015/03/lisas-garden.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Sunday, March 8, 2015. All day long, there's been a weight on my heart, because someone I never met has died. Lisa Bonchek Adams had metastatic breast cancer. She blogged here. I was one of her readers, but we never exchanged words. I wasn't a friend. She had plenty of friends already, and they hurt a lot worse than I do today. So do her husband and three children, and her parents, who have lost their beloved daughter. She was only 45. Of course, she didn't. She ...

sarahhina.blogspot.com

murmurs: May 2015

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2015_05_01_archive.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Friday, May 29, 2015. For my son, whose friend has moved. You are dear to me. My heart is broke. By the strain of. But it's still there. To be a child. To two grown-ups,. This is the price. And all I can do. Is love you,. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). I'm a writer, wife and mom of two. My debut novel, PLUM BLOSSOMS IN PARIS, is now available from Medallion Press. View my complete profile. Chick With A Quill. My Poems and Emotions. On The Front Porch.

sarahhina.blogspot.com

murmurs: April 2015

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2015_04_01_archive.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Monday, April 27, 2015. You are the everything. In the backseat of the car, their knees just touch. Like the whisper of the wheels on the ribbon of asphalt. Slight enough for intention to be the question dancing across the roof of her mouth. His weight grafts onto hers. She holds it, bravely. Their arms touch, without fanfare, whistling to the shimmy of the car. She swallows. It is. On the car's seat, their pinkies touch. Then more of them. Looking out her window, sh...

sarahhina.blogspot.com

murmurs: The most important thing

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2015/07/the-most-important-thing.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Friday, July 24, 2015. The most important thing. Here is how I picture us. The light is water, running down your cheek, past the ridge of your throat, to be swallowed by your collar. I can just make out the color of your eyes. But that is not the most important thing. I don't know how life can be as beautiful as this, or why we can't be like the trees, so easily roused, all of the time. The camera shutter opens, and closes. It's been doing that all day.

sarahhina.blogspot.com

murmurs: November 2014

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2014_11_01_archive.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Saturday, November 29, 2014. While cleaning recently, I came across an old cd case from my college years. Half the sleeves were filled with R.E.M. albums. It made me stop and realize something. I never listen to R.E.M. anymore. Art is sometimes a lifeline. I was there because I was searching blindly to know who I was, and what I wanted, and I followed the only thing that felt true to me. But I don't regret the trying. I remember an unhappiness so complete I didn't ev...

sarahhina.blogspot.com

murmurs: Unburied

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2015/06/unburied.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Monday, June 29, 2015. Becomes a feather,. Pinned to your breast. Like a badge of honor,. As you survey the endless horizon. Knowing they'll come to serve. Of how you learned to fly. Until the one comes. 8212;strangely, no worse. In tone than the rest. 8212;and you see that. The horizon you've long been plotting is—. Oof—just a crack in the ceiling, right. Overtop that water stain. And all those feathers. Have become the ostrich, now squat on your chest. But if you b...

sarahhina.blogspot.com

murmurs: Finger paint

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2015/07/finger-paint.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Saturday, July 11, 2015. Portrait of Adeline Ravoux. By Vincent Van Gogh). Standing in front of a painting by Van Gogh is different than standing in front of a painting by anyone else. Time becomes viscous. Your insides turn wobbly. Your eyes turn wet. Like a child, you want to touch his wiggles, his crosses, his splotches. You want to touch him. The artist. The man. Vincent. It's simply that, more than any other artist, Van Gogh seems both bracingly there. Mark, I j...

sarahhina.blogspot.com

murmurs: June 2015

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2015_06_01_archive.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Monday, June 29, 2015. Becomes a feather,. Pinned to your breast. Like a badge of honor,. As you survey the endless horizon. Knowing they'll come to serve. Of how you learned to fly. Until the one comes. 8212;strangely, no worse. In tone than the rest. 8212;and you see that. The horizon you've long been plotting is—. Oof—just a crack in the ceiling, right. Overtop that water stain. And all those feathers. Have become the ostrich, now squat on your chest.

sarahhina.blogspot.com

murmurs: Prometheus

http://sarahhina.blogspot.com/2015/04/prometheus.html

The fiction and poetry of sarah hina. Thursday, April 9, 2015. I want to burn. Taut and roaring,. Burn blue. I like that. April 9, 2015 at 10:10 PM. If you really want to burn hot Sarah add plutonium. I was burning hot for years, looking back I miss the fire but have adapted to the coldness I chose. April 10, 2015 at 6:53 AM. I can feel the heat blazing from your eyes. Very sharp poem. April 12, 2015 at 9:21 AM. Ah, I love your poetry. April 18, 2015 at 2:41 PM. I love this and the whole poem! I'm a writ...