To the best of her knowledge Maurelle was French. At least in this dreary realm that was her chosen persona. The bilingual from birth or those unveiled for the sake of reasoning are more often than not puzzled, unsure of their pedigree. Besides, French after all is the language of love and that of those … More MAURELLE
After an unseemly war, indeed any conflict worth its salt, holding hands with the foe in a see-through wrought iron creaky elevator makes for the perfect imaginative indignity. More so when the mechanism is empty of surplus pounding hearts, black widow spiders on heat and coy venomous snakes. Yet when bereft of such additional intrusive … More RADIANT FREAKS
I beg of you never ever spread my ashes in an England at sea An Albion of dogmatists preaching clownish prejudice over clemency This sullied land that would smirk as it amputates my tied identity This island of narcissistic loaded bigots and pliable pauper kin Let the soaring ramparts of Montreuil-sur-Mere be my resting … More STATELESS ASHES
I have broken off diplomatic relations with my left eye. Presently it is more use as a kaleidoscope than an organ of sight. Personally, I blame the Russians. I have no evidence that Putin is behind this yet hold him entirely responsible. That said, reading from screen or book has become more problematic recently. As … More TAKING TIME OUT FROM BLOGGING
The town square, a pernickety, delicate blend of Renaissance and Art Deco construction yet at its centre an ill at ease belfry atop a Romanesque steeple within which a bell chamber housed nought but hibernating bats, muddled moths and the occasional drifter with no fear … More UNDER A BLACK BERET
(Photograph by Jerry Uelsmann) The Event below the surface filthy in every which way rendezvous at ground level the hangover cure cafes not so hidden, hidden brothel retreats divinely cut-loose ever so purple showgirls all-inclusive sexual indulgence the wizardry of New Orleans jazz migrated potent blinding nectarous spirits voluptuous fly-by-nights a stained mattress for spare … More TANGIBLE ILLUSIONS
Long since she had set aside time for reflection. Reminders of days gone by. Important? Most likely. A habit, certainly. Regardless, instinct told her that lessons learned shaped new dawns. Contemplation invariably led her toward an unremitting trinity of memories. Of those times when she stood quizzical, gawping, mouth wide open at a single, curiously … More A NEW DAWN
