Tag Archives: Sarah White

Sarah White

Merce Cunningham’s Late Creations

When he could flex no more
his knees or toes, and his limbs
no longer engaged
in on-stage expression,

he performed
another daily exercise, not
at the barre as before,
but with paper and pencil,

doing God’s job,
forming his own
creatures, one a day—
rhino, titmouse, bonobo—

birds at their angles of flight, dogs
in ecstasies of scent, the
large and little cats
in savannah pajamas,

striped like a rainbow
from A to blue,
swinging up to Harlem,
down to Soho.


Sarah White is a former professor who doesn’t teach French Literature any more but instead divides her time between poetry and painting.

 

Sarah White

Let Your Work Be a Surprise to You

It’s as if the game
were to fish
words from a brook
with a seine
or a slotted spoon—
bug, scum, weed, leaf,

and as if, from upstream,
came a fly, trout fly,
a “Royal Coachman”
my brother tied toward the end
of his life, with trim feathers
floating like a grief
between the surface
and the weeds underneath.


Sarah White is a former professor who doesn’t teach French Literature any more but instead divides her time between poetry and painting.

 

Sarah White

The Vanishing

Weep for the tiny nematodes, diatoms, corals, and crustaceans lost though
we don’t know most of their names yet, let alone how we’ll get along
without them now that they’ve passed into extinction leaving
homo sapiens, the knowing man, alone with his brain
finding light waves from fourteen billion years ago
and discovering nobody in the cosmos close
enough to mourn when we ourselves
pass forever into the shadows
as we’re bound, in time,
to do, given what we
know about the
heat, cold,
and harm
to come.

Sarah White‘s most recent collections include The Unknowing Muse (Dos Madres, 2015), Wars Don’t Happen Anymore (Deerbrook Editions, 2015), and a new collection, to one who bends my time, (Deerbrook Editions, 2017).

Sarah White

If You Need An Idiom To Describe Events Of 2016

Try I SWALLOWED A RAT
while I was making shepherd’s pie, or HE
SWALLOWED A RAT while he was
working out with weights, or SHE
SWALLOWED A RAT while she hung
undies on the line, or,

while he studied Torah and she, Portuguese
THEY SWALLOWED A RAT and she
yelled “socorro!” but there was no noise
because the claws had compromised
her vocal chords and all the claws,
plus thrashing tails we saw
between her open jaws, were him,
THE RAT OF INFINITE MAYHEM.

Sarah White, since retiring from college French teaching, has studied art and published four collections of poetry and has a fifth, to one who bends my time, forthcoming from Deerbrook Editions.

Sarah White

Morning News, November 9, 2016

It is, it is, it is
very dumb to be happy
sang the bees in a poem of hers

as if verse could buzz away
a world catastrophe,

as if History were anything
but a tsunami,

as if Time, which doesn’t flinch
in its awful march,

would bend to let her spend
another minute of dumb happiness
with her lover and her friends.

Sarah White, since retiring from college French teaching, has studied art and published four collections of poetry and has a fifth, “to one who bends my time,” forthcoming from Deerbrook Editions.