Dear Saturn Return, Now we're on the same page and speaking the same language. Bring it on.
Isidora & Magdalena
I am currently writing a Gothic tale set somewhere in Eastern Europe, in a time before cars and electricity. My head has a handful of stories waiting in line for me to finish one so I can start the other. And even though they are waiting to be written, I can see them very clearly. … Continue reading Isidora & Magdalena
Hg
Me, the ever restless twins Fast as wings in Hermes’ heels You, Apollo’s racing car Know what is a cinnabar. From chemistry to alchemy Astrology, astronomy An orbit of the highest Eccentricity Coulomb interaction Semi-neurotic reaction To bad grammar and bad spelling That we both find so repelling. You know the capital of Nepal … Continue reading Hg
Isidora & Big Brother
From time to time I discover a dead master and feel a sudden urge to bring them to our present. I would take Oscar Wilde out for dinner and invite Stephen Fry. I would show heavy metal music to Beethoven. I would offer Birthday Letters to Sylvia Plath, gift-wrapped with a red bow. Being almost … Continue reading Isidora & Big Brother
old tales
Little Princess Little Princess, I declare There's nothing finer than your hair Its perfect waves and perfect length And how it seems to give you strength Little Princess, how you stare!, Into mine eyes I cannot bare As if once lost and by me found Your tiny feet swept off the ground Little Princess, do … Continue reading old tales
emerging self
Fidgety Fluttering Flickering
What Would Olivia Dunham Do?
Prior to writing this, I thought about the heroes I’ve had in the past and, apart from Disney’s Ariel, all the action characters that have inspired courage in my backbone and made me long for adventure were, I’m sorry to say, men. Until I met Olivia Dunham. I came across Fringe almost by accident and, … Continue reading What Would Olivia Dunham Do?
Isidora & empty chairs II
Empty chair What are you fishing for When no one's there?
Isidora & empty chairs
Praise to Liu Xiaobo and all the Chinese who risk their freedom for human rights. It's heartbreaking to hear Tiananmen Square protesters saying how, in order to protect their children, they will never be able to tell them what they did or that they lost an arm because they were beaten so badly by the … Continue reading Isidora & empty chairs
Isidora & Leslie Nielsen
Dr. Rumack: Can you fly this plane, and land it? Ted Striker: Surely you can't be serious. Dr. Rumack: I am serious... and don't call me Shirley. Dr. Rumack: You'd better tell the Captain we've got to land as soon as we can. This woman has to be gotten to a hospital. Elaine Dickinson: A … Continue reading Isidora & Leslie Nielsen
Isidora & Pirates
They came first for the Communists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for me … Continue reading Isidora & Pirates
Isidora & the colour purple
My mother loved the colour purple. It wasn't just her favourite colour, it was one of her favourite things. She loved purple & the outdoors. The smell of the sea. Camping. Bike riding. Her biggest passion was the visual arts and crafts (for which she had no formal training), though she worked for an American … Continue reading Isidora & the colour purple
Isidora & the scientist
There is nothing cooler than growing up with a geek dad. I had heard of Douglas Adams and Alan Moore before Hollywood got hold of them and had long chats over books and the universe next to a huge office poster of Batman. Of course, when you have someone constantly trying to get you to … Continue reading Isidora & the scientist
Isidora & The Boy Who Lived
In the longer-than-necessary The Order of the Phoenix, Harry asks Luna why are they the only ones who can see Thestrals, a species of skeleton-like winged horses that everyone else deems invisible. "They can only be seen by people who've seen death,” she replies. This little sentence sums up what I see as the special … Continue reading Isidora & The Boy Who Lived
Cosmology (pt. 1)
I. Light light said the Word was there not Spirit before Matter came, though they say the clay was molded first? Light life blew the Breath that condensed to make flesh from the breast of the Earth now the Mother of all birth. II. There is always a serpent hissing up your spine all the … Continue reading Cosmology (pt. 1)
Isidora & Characters
Paraphrasing some iconic author whose name I can’t remember speaking to the Paris Review, great characters are not photographs - they come to life from scratch. I do use sketches, drafts of portraits from the living, which I then try to mold and dress up according to their character potential. I’ll add wrinkles to their … Continue reading Isidora & Characters
it aches my love
it aches my love it aches your silence pressing against my chest my flesh ripping open wounds tiny and big closing and healed it burns my love it burns flames and heat scrapping the surface of some inner organ the hidden place where pain is felt and I try my love to keep my love … Continue reading it aches my love
Isidora & Prose
I am a painfully s l o w writer of prose and soaringwriterofverse. To my mind prose is convention & norm, poetry free form. In a poem, you can cut sentences in half wherever you wish and pile them up together in whatever shape you want You could never have that with prose.
Isidora Burns for Hawksley
At the time I was hungry for Paris and its bohemian sounds: I wanted accordions and violins and cabaret pianos in a 3/4 beat & Sarah Slean lead me to him. Everything I read spoke of this extravagant, flamboyant artist, but I came to see something very different. Yes, he's astoundingly prolific and, yes, he's … Continue reading Isidora Burns for Hawksley
Isidora comes of age
Black sunflowers are but red. I am not darkness a Lilith moon calling out beasts and demons to roam the woods and minds of dreamers who step down the steps to the cave where they store what they hide. I am a different cave: where every creature goes to digest what it feels that harbors … Continue reading Isidora comes of age
Isidora’s Birth
Black phoenix born anew (hatches, hatches) orphan bird tries a flap and then two.
geração Magalhães
Acredito que, no meu tempo, os professores tinham mais do que vontade de pegar em dois ou três alunos e afastá-los da turma para conseguirem dar aulas. Eu tenho vontade de pegar em dois ou três alunos de cada turma e dar-lhes aulas só a eles.
um dia beijo-te
um dia beijo-te ao som do vermelho tinto que trazemos no sangue mesmo que não sintas fervilhar no teu os meus lábios dir-te-ão mais que as palavras e juras que carrego nas veias. um dia beijo-te ao chegar a coragem de dizer sem versos as rimas que sinto na minha pele ansiosa pela tua de … Continue reading um dia beijo-te
antigas e eternas crises de fé
Como o antepassado milenar, duvido por não ver. Há todo um sistema que fui descobrindo/criando/fixando para responder a comos e porquês. E que agora vacila. Porque uma ascensão - de acordo com os pilares - implicaria pôr os pés nas águas, na esperança de conseguir andar sobre elas. Aquilo que sinto ser verdade pede-me que … Continue reading antigas e eternas crises de fé
sem título possível
Anúncio televisivo acabado de ver: Enquanto um par de mãos se move entre o frigorífico e o microondas, ouve-se a voz carinhosa da mãezinha Rita Blanco, como quem lê um bilhete, a dizer algo como "Deixei-te o jantar pronto, o teu preferido. Convida os teus amigos se quiseres". As mãos põem a mesa para quatro … Continue reading sem título possível
