an on-line poetry magazine
for the 21st century


Laure Cambau


He put some poems in his pockets
Then stepped right into the bowels of the river
Straight toward the isles
Weighed down by words
We never saw him again
He put his poems in his pockets
Then left straightaway
On the dividing line between dreams
Kneading the ephemeral flesh of false angels
That’s why if you come across
Printed fish
Fish that speak
Fish that cry
Don’t eat them that quickly

LAURE CAMBAU lives in Paris. Poet and pianist, she is ALSO the author of children’s stories and song lyrics. In permanent balance between the “fertility of sounds” and the “magical reality of words” (D.H. Lawrence), she claims her right to strangeness. She has published nine collections of poetry and received the SGDL’s Poncetton Prize for Lettres au voyou céleste (Amandier, 2010). Her latest works include La fille peinte en bleu (Caractères/Ecrits des Forges, Quebec), and Ma peau ne protège que vous (Le Castor Astral).