At the exact middle of my life

I met Mister Do It Yourself

When he saw me full of sadness

He asked: “ what do you desire the most, my friend ?”

And I answered :


“ A house full of love,

 An orchard in my yard,

 My poems gilded with gold,

 And a good heart with no regret.”


Then Mister Do It Yourself

Looked at me and said :


“ I am going to help you”

And then by magic, appeared

A spade, a pen and a glass of water.

The spade for the orchard

The pen for the poems,

And the glass of water

To swallow my Ego.



Deus sive Florida


The secluded state of Florida is divided into 67 gated counties. In order to preserve the impressive multi-million dollar fortresses, the municipalities have built a number of defensive walls and barricades. Homeowners associations against outsiders are the new city halls.

They meet twice a month to create new signs of restriction such as: No smoking, No littering, No dog, No trespassing, No swimming, No diving, No fishing, No crabbing, No biking, No parking, No loitering No left-turn, No u-turn, No horn, No children, No public access to the beach, No exit, No photography, No wifi, No shirt, No shoes, No service, No germs, No democrats, (you know who you are...) No tattoos, No “nos”, No F...but F… off.

My first one-woman shoe on stage in 2019.


God mess America.

A woman in quest of stability moving from Paris to NYC.

Peppy Teardrop

A Peppy Teardrop was prisoner of a tyrannic cheek. One early morning, she decided to escape from her jailer by rolling down on Sir Neck. 


By chance, she landed in a fully equipped kitchen, travelled on a valiant mop, but the water of its bucket was thrown away in the river.


A magic adventure started. After a ride on a golden rainbow trout, Peppy Teardrop found herself splashing around in a new ocean called Poetic, unknown by scientists.


Peppy was joyful, alive and the tyrannic cheek was only a distant painful memory.


It was the cheek of a French romantic poet. Peppy was his slave, forced to work and make him cry hours by candlelight. 


Conversely, Peppy was a funny, free little girl and refused despotism.




“Walk away is the remedy of dismay.”

© 2016


Who are you stranger ? State your name, your occupation, your address.


“ I am the wind… the grass … the sand.”


What do you really mean? Are you an author, a creator ?


“ No, this seems too arrogant to me. Maybe I am an acrobat… a beggar of risk… a clandestine of languages.


Then, who are you truly?



                                          “ I am the name Reverie.”

     © 2016

The confiteor of the incapable


Supreme aurora, appear

Deliver your homespun dress on my shoulders

Supreme aurora, here is my confiteor :



I confess to almighty God,


And to you, my sisters Dickinson and Angelou,


That I have sinned through my own fault,


In inspiration, in style,


In musicality and in Beauty.



And I ask blessed Poetry, ever virgin,


All the angels and saints,


And you, my sisters,


To pray for me to the lord, our God.






The night comes in slow steps

Decreasing agitation.

In silence, every noise is distinct

And wild life appears.


The night comes in slow steps

Listen as the sun goes down

As the moon sneaks across the sky

A bird’s song repeats endlessly

As the stars rise

The grass is alive with ants

A plane traces a long line to infinity


To the subtle soothing darkness falling.

The bright carillons of the night

When my soul scarcely reaches yours.

© 2015