Hey Everyone! My name is Jacques "thehaitianfirefly" Fleury! I am a poet, freelance writer and host of a LIVE local TV show aptly titled "Dream Weavers w/ Jacques" at Cambridge Community Television (CCTV) on Ch. 9 on Thursdays at 5:30pm. The show is also on the net same time at: www.cctvcambridge.org and click on webstream! I am always looking for guests! I also write for "Whats Up Magazine", "Spare Change News" , "Somerville News", "The Bridge" and host my own column in www.TheAlewife.com, the online version of one of Cambridge's latest newspapers and click on category: Jacques Fleury! I have a degree in Liberal Arts and am currently working on my second degree in the Arts at Umass Boston and hope to apply to a Masters of Fine Ars in Creative writing progam at Harvard University and Emerson College.

I just self published my first Chap Book: Sparks in the Dark: Selected Poems by Jacques "thehaitianfirefly" Fleury!! It is being sold at The Out of the Blue Gallery in Cambridge on Prospect Street across from the Whole Foods supermarket! Half the proceeds will go to the Gallery! There are poems both in French and Creole translated in to English of course. Get yourself a copy and help support the gallery! For mor information email the gallery at: ootb@att.net.

Also Should you have any News Tips or a dream to weave on screen or if you have any questions about my poetry, my writings, live appearances or my TV and internet show, please contact me: haitianfirefly@yahoo.com or (617) 272-5057.

UPCOMING POETRY PERFORMANCES

-I was supposed to be a featured performer along with my friend, poetess Coleen Houlihan at TOAST, a venue in Union Square in Somerville, but it was CANCELLED DUE TO the SNOW STORM. Look for future dates right here on this site!! Houlihan is also a novelist. She studied writing at Wellesley College and has been a writer for many years. She has featured at Stone Soup and published poetry in The Alewife and abroad. Her poetry could be described as sensual and magical, with images so vivid you can almost loose yourself in her world that is huntingly beautiful. My poetry can be political, inspirational and borders on the edges of emotional and infused with Haitian folklore and history. Doug Holder, local author and publisher, has described it as "phrophetic." I hope to have my first ever Poetry Chapbook availlable for sale. So come on down and bring your friends. Please contact Toast for more information about how to get there! Toast is located at: 73 Union Sq. Somerville, MA. 02143 (617) 623-9211, www.toastboston.com! We were booked by Doug Holder of Ibbetson Street Press! Thanx Doug!

POETRY SAMPLERS: JACQUES FLEURY, COLEEN HOULIHAN

Free!

Dock
we'll dock stones
roll and
we'll unroll
In my america
the big flying eagle
birds well done abroad.
Two groups of people
the rich and the poor
the young and the old
the white and the black
and three tons of fat
all in procession
silent tales are blooming
flowers growing shells
olive branches
climbing white house walls
two candles burning
shades of gray
itrustingod
holy bloody sunday comes
sunday morning
god bless those whose veins
bear none
twilight swallows the moon
darkness
descends
soldiers gone awol
run like panthers
here and gone
they've staged a snare
running rivers very dry mouths
Dutiful soldiers beat their drums
paragons of strengh and honor
mascarade balls
dinky shoots smack and
the dumb blond flunks
fall down stand up
walk the line
walk backwards
juggling well
will set you free.

Copyright 2005 by Jacques "thehaitianfirefly" Fleury All Rights Reserved

Coleen T. Houlihan
June 23, 1998
The Elephants

Please understand me,
for I am mine tonight-

The ringmaster says the elephants
are all right
but as I passed their cage,
all metal and no sun,
I caught a glimpse of their eyes
and the way they were mashing
bars and tufts and chains,
the way they were biting their own skin
said to me
the elephants are wild tonight.

And he was so confident
as he lead them into the ring
with balls, hoops of fire and whips of hide-
I took a seat knowing what it would bring
and the elephants came running
around the tent as if they were sheep
deep grey and as large as submarines.
Yes, something will go down tonight.
Not me, not me, not me.

And one by one he introduced them,
names of Dolly, Sally, Pete-
and I remembered thinking,
right before the screams,
that these elephants were once from Africa-
distant, wild and free
and who did he think he was addressing,
what was it that he was choosing to see?
Not me, not me, not me.

They were beautiful
and the people screamed.
The woman next to me waved her arms
falling like brittle leaves-
clearly she did not see,
and as her head hit the floor
I thought,
“Not me.”

Dressed in red, crimson channels
that flowed down their flanks
and their wounds were the shapes of
deserts, lakes and trees
more powerful than the mark
of any hand that had touched
those wild, wild beasts…

And their cries reminded me
of my own.

But the ringmaster was shouting
foreign, bitter words.
Then the ringmaster was a decoration,
his body a blur
of white ivory and red skin
and the people were all screaming
as the hoops blazed yellow sun
and the balls burst and collapsed
and the woman on the floor was yelling,
“My god, my god what is this!”

I smiled when I saw her
looked her in the eye,
“It’s the elephants,” I said.
“They are wild tonight.”
And then I sank my teeth
into her flesh
and as the elephants thrashed,
as the elephants pressed,
I knew
they understood.