Susan Moorhead

Susan Moorhead writes poetry and stories and works as a children's librarian in New York. She's happy to have managed to always be surrounded by books.

Her work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, and been nominated three times for a Pushcart prize. Her chapbook, The Night Ghost, was published with Finishing Line Press. Recent work includes a short story in The Westchester Review, poems in Heartwood, Woman Around Town, Breadcrumbs, and Poems-for-All.

November 2019: The Origami Poems Project nominated Things that are lost from Susan Moorhead's latest microchap 'Lost and Found' for a Pushcart Prize. Each year the OPP selects 6 poems to nominate for this distinction.

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► Susan's microchaps & selected poems are available below.

Origami Microchaps
Lost and Found
Click title to save, download & print microchap Cover photo by author •	Things that are lost My heart. Two souls. My favorite huarache sandals. A sketchbook in France. Innocence, and the desire to sin. One earring only. The belief in consequences. Two parents, innumerable relatives. My passport. The ability to sleep. The sweetness of my children when young. Letters and photographs shredded. Thinking there's enough time.	Things that are found Pennies on the pavement. A tortoiseshell cat. God in the trees and diamonds in the ashes. Gratitude, hard won. The wonder of adults who were once my children. Hope, again and again like a flying bird. A long road of love. Quietude, and the gifts of solitude. Learning how to finish. Learning how to not finish. My heart. • Susan Moorhead © 2019
Color Theories
Click title to save, download & print microchap Cover art by Lauri Burke •	Yellow In this third life, trying to find my dandelion purpose. Some chlorophyll miracle, something perennial, not annual in the scheme of things. Common wonders these miniature suns, let these brave little scrubs be the gifts I offer my strange angels, to show I am willing to learn how to change from shine to seed, to close my eyes and lean into the wind, go where it carries me. • Susan Moorhead © 2018	White Cirrus, cumulus, fractus, cirrostratus. Take a moment. Ease into the prongs of new grass until it bends to accept you. Release your agenda and every thought in your head. Gaze up, unfettered. We are passengers here, carried like the clouds and birds on the turning wheel. Small wonder it's called a revolution.
Notes for the Journey
Click title to save, download & print microchap Cover art by Lauri Burke •	Gaze On these darkling nights five hundred years or longer, ceilings give way to the dark brushwork of firs, a glimpse of star-flecked sky. Earlier I thought, I have not participated enough in this world. • Susan Moorhead © 2017	Hourglass We are clock watchers. Measurers. Doling out the days by hours and small breaths. Time wrapping around us like a winching cord. I've grown three inches in an afternoon.

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