Abstract, Sur-real Exhibit Opening Reception Next Saturday

One week away until the opening reception! I'm so excited to have my photographs, "Anemophobia" and "Triskaphobia," included in this fantastic exhibit. Many thanks to the curators and the New Orleans Photo Alliance! Hope to see you there!

Comments

Perpetual Poetry: Words Inspiring Words, a review

"Reading Karen Lillis" copyright 2014 Kristin Fouquet Perpetual Poetry: Words Inspiring Words a review of The Paul Simon Project by Karen Lillis I have a confession to make. I am not a poet. I write fiction and I believe writing poetry is a completely different process. I love reading good poetry, but I am in no way a poetry scholar. These are the reasons I usually do not review poetry chapbooks. The Paul Simon Project by Karen Lillis is only my second exception to this rule. Influenced by Simon’s words and music on the album Still Crazy After All These Years , Lillis duplicates the song titles for her poems in this collection. Some follow a similar path as the subject of the song; others venture in their own direction. The album’s title song inspires a poem which mimics the melancholy and sentimentality of the original. Yet, she pumps it up with a contemporary edginess and gender reversal. In “My Little Town,” Simon sings,

Carnival in New Orleans 2024

You Were Perfectly Fine by Dorothy Parker

"Martini" kristin fouquet This is my favorite hangover story. A raise of the glass to the inimitable Dorothy Parker. You Were Perfectly Fine by Dorothy Parker The pale young man eased himself carefully into the low chair, and rolled his head to the side, so that the cool chintz comforted his cheek and temple. “Oh, dear,” he said.”Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. Oh.” The clear-eyed girl, sitting light and erect on the couch, smiled brightly at him. “Not feeling so well today?” she said. “Oh, I’m great,” he said.”Corking, I am. Know what time I got up? Four o’clock this afternoon, sharp. I kept trying to make it, and every time I took my head off the pillow, it would roll under the bed. This isn’t my head I’ve got on now. I think this is something that used to belong to Walt Whitman. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.” “Do you think maybe a drink would make you feel better?” she said. “The hair of the mastiff that bit me?” he said.”Oh, no,

Le Salon Annex

Search This Blog