Abonne-toi à mon blog! Elle écrit pour se sauver de sa vie. Elle écrit pour extérioriser ses pensées. Elle écrit pour pouvoir avancer. Elle écrit ce qui lui passe par la tête. Elle écrit sa propre vérité. Elle écrit au lieu de le crier à tue-tête. Elle écrit ce qui la fait rêver. Elle écrit toute sa terreur.

Sunday, June 22, 2008. The coat and hat,. Zig zagged red woven belt,. A life, compared only. The mountains, clouds and valley,. Gray of winter, accompanied. Lines of Nevada desert,. Unfolding, on this thorny carpet,. Farther off, there, pointing-. Softer in the distance, then. Wasted in dust and scraggled afoot. And one more ridge- winding.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008. He was driving down, now. That weakened blue, it was early spring. This industrial northern clime,. The increasing suburban mall, mania. Remembering, his first glimpses,. Flooded banks, the Yellow Breeches Creek,. Strewn, bottles of strange color, bound. In loops of film, hanging. From flood fallen trees,.

Monday, July 7, 2008. Paumanok is the 1st part of. Here it is presented as a separate entity. Paumanok, was the Indian. 8220;had been a happy time. Cottage, a home, far from city rigor,. Through varied weather, the waves. Coming home, from the beach to paint. Waiting for the afternoon shadows lengthening-. Big, vacation like clams, in the pond. Just across the road,.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008. Clouds, leaves, waves. The lagoon at night opens. Upon the beach and stars. A storm across the point. Jovan drums a rhythm as. Displaced fumes of oil flow. Cormorants shiver in glimmering light. Black rocks, hissing waves,. Long grey clouds, reflect greenness. To breathe at the surface. Figures fly, torsos of light.