I started writing poetry very early on, before my teenage years. French at first when I still lived there. English then after I moved to America. Around 1995, I ditched poetry to writing lyrics, mostly in French. That was when I had met – and attempted to seduce through these words, and the tasks they asked of him – the French guitar player who would wind up being my husband and collaborator for many years after that. More soon as I retrieve these from deep corners of cardboard boxes or hard drives.



The Quarry



Hills to houses,

hunted and stoned.

Hills to houses,

white as bone.


My fall echoes

from wall down walls.

My howling sounds

within your homes.


To be that pelt

of rigorous stripes,

hollowed and stripped

by metal grind.


That which you chase

encases you.

That which you fear

enslaves you.

That which you hunt

so haunts you.


Thick is my hide,

brittle my love.

My rage runs deep

from dust to chalk.



Marianne Dissard / Howe Gelb

Mon coeur, sacrifions à cette tradition
qui veut que l’on résolve de faire ou de cesser
à la nouvelle année, à la nouvelle année.

Résolvons sans pâlir
de ne pas nous résoudre.
Restons à l’identique
et battons la chamade
encore toute une année.

Nuit et jour, en silence,
sous couvert de nos vies,
nous doutons de nos gonds
mais jamais, mais jamais de la vie.

A la nouvelle année.


French chanteuse of desert noir. Left her home in Tucson, Arizona for a wooden boat in England. Latest dope Deluxe CD 'Cibola Gold: Best of 2008-2015'. Next release 2017: book memoir.