In May 2019, two poems from "The Ropewalker" series are published in Duck Lake Journal, Washington, US. Published quarterly, Duck Lake Journal is the literary magazine of Duck Lake Books, a not…
Read More
*** Impossible to measure, Impossible to quantify, The silence In which I sit, By which I’m fossilised, Smelling the may bells, Thinking of you Unbuttoning your shirt, Unbuttoning your heart.…
Read More
*** We keep our separate silences, Belgium outside is in clouds, trembles in spasms of rain, the skies leak through my fingers glued to the cold French window, the treetops…
Read More
*** There was nothing left for us but to thank the stars for hearing the keys under these hands, under the hands without music, under the hands without any land…
Read More
*** Sometimes I go to Honfleur, I walk its coble stones and forest roads, there is a lot of French noise: wine clinking, chanson and laughter, and in front of…
Read More
*** The joy of that black night is still alive and pulsing in me. That joy is also to drive me on towards the white nights that I am dreaming…
Read More
*** I didn’t know wether to laugh or cry when I saw a pixel today, extracted carefully from Mona Lisa’s hands, to make them breathe, to make them stand straight…
Read More
For years she had swallowed it up in daily doses - the skin&bones models in little black dresses - she followed the rules, and even accepted to be a good…
Read More
*** My heart hammers so hard when I imagine you walking the streets we walked together, I still don't know how much the gift of freedom and trust can cost…
Read More
She is a catsuit, A catsuit that is thought to be Too vulgar, Too Extravagant, Too food For hungry eyes And mouths Of the judges, Of spectators in fedora hats…
Read More
