Monday, November 23, 2015

Announcing: A Trail of Dreams

A Trail of Dreams

My daughter and I just published our second Sasquatch Tale. Please check it out!

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Reversal at forty below

Shards split off
and fall away. This mewling thing
emerges, reddened,
bold and puffy, burned raw.

I'd step outside again
but for the fear
that winter's splintered grasp
will devour me, whole.

Burrow deep
into this nest of covers;
shiver at the prospect
of shearing away 
their velvet heat.

It's time, I think,
to be unborn again.

Rachel Westfall
January 6, 2015

Friday, December 12, 2014

Blackflies dream

If only you could know
The musky tang of berries
Rotting on the bush.

The fug of muskeg, peat bog
Sucking wet below a crust of ice,
Blackflies sleeping now;

Or massed in spinning columns,
Riding currents of warm air
In the dream of summer.

Where else would they go?
This crust is one they can't break through,
Their wings a crumpled mess.

Rachel Westfall
December 12, 2014

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

The river

The river smelled like the sea.
Yet there were no clapboard houses
painted brightly, clinging like limpets,
strung across the rocky hillside.
There were no pinstriped garden snails,
no flock of gulls to snatch them up
and drop them down from high above,
to strip the bruised snail-flesh free
from shells with gleeful squawks.

The river smelled like the sea.
Terns gathered up the scattered figments
of an overactive imagination
and twisted their coiled, aethereal strands
into clever nests, impregnable fortresses
to house their squalling young.

Rachel Westfall
July 16, 2014

Wednesday, July 2, 2014


Ten thousand homes were without power
after Raven’s suicide, an impulsive death
by electrocution, followed by the slow, acrid burn
of shining feathers that lit the grass on fire;
a minor human emergency, an inconvenience
which hampered countless sales transactions.

Raven’s family, arrayed in the lodgepole pines
in ragged rows, watched the scurrying humans
and cackled their bird-brained delight
at Raven’s bold success. After all,
she had often been heard to say
how she’d like go out with a bang.

Rachel Westfall
July 2, 2014

Monday, June 23, 2014

Feline anarchy

Feline anarchy
Black and sleek, a shadow thin
Chaos stalks my soul

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Into the green

I am in the air
Though you may forget to breathe
My soul is the wind

As you lie there now
Tangled with your newest love
My thoughts brush your cheek

Iceland poppies bloom
Tangled vetch and columbine
When you dream of me

Rachel Westfall
June 15, 2014

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

A field of sad poppies

A field of sad poppies,
Their heads bowed down
As petals of red
Orange and yellow
Sing a final bold song
Of butterfly wings
Or torn parachutes
Spinning reckless colour
Over wind-whipped ground

Rachel Westfall
June 10, 2014

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Sasquatch Tales

Please visit my new site! 

This site profiles the Sasquatch Tales I've been writing in collaboration with my daughter, Ursula. Let me know what you think.

Happy sasquatch viewing!

Sincerely, Rachel

Thursday, May 29, 2014


Why stay dry when you can be

Wet? Soaking, gloriously rain-drenching wet
Thin rivulets of cold running through
steaming fabric, over ribs, over thighs, dripping
from wrists onto bundles of fast-wrinkling
books, into bags, into the parched thirsty ground

Until cracks fill with clay, drips become streams,
and earthworms rise in slow panic, reaching for air,
finding only the sharp beaks and grinding bellies
of gleeful red robins, or the tender hands of small children
on a mission to rescue who they can, god-kissed

Or, on the other hand,
you could always just use
your umbrella.

Rachel Westfall
May 29, 2014