*This poem is inspired by a painting of an old gypsy woman I saw in a museum yesterday. It stood out from the rest of the paintings of young, vibrant girls who were both fascinating and fearful to the people at the time. I started to wonder if the mixed reactions born from these two feelings had taken their toll on the gypsy woman, and I jotted ( Read more... )

There are two things you need to know about this poem before you continue reading (if you are reading in the first place): 1) It is a very loose interpretation of inertia. So loose that it mightn't even actually be an interpretation of inertia. More like 'what happens when you make a change so big that you can no longer make any more.' 2) This is ( Read more... )

'Salut mon chou, tu vas bien?' I place my keys on the hall table and bend down to ease off my shoes. I hear a grunt from the living room. In Christophe-speak, this means he's heard me but is otherwise occupied. I pad across the cool floor, wriggling my toes as I go. I think I could spend the rest of my life here and still not learn how to tolerate ( Read more... )

Here's hoping it'll be third journal, third time lucky ( Read more... )