bio
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Marie Lecrivain is the executive editor and publisher of poeticdiversity: the litzine of Los Angeles, is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and is a writer in residence at her apartment.
Her prose and poetry have appeared in a number of journals and anthologies, including: Haibun Today, Heavy Hands Ink, The Los Angeles Review, The Poetry Salzburg Review, San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly, Spillway, Tree Killer Ink, and is forthcoming in Iodine Poetry Journal, and Visions and Voices: An Anthology of Ekphrastic Poetry (Exiles Press 2012).
Marie's collection of short stories, Bitchess, (copyright 2011 Sybaritic Press), is available through Amazon.com, and Smashwords.com.
Marie's avocations include photography; meditation; Libers CCXX and LXV; marmosets; Christopher Eccleston, or Sean Bean (depending on what day of the week it is); her co-owned cats Puff and Mr. Poe; expensive handbags; the number seven, and sensual tributes upon her neck from male artists-except male poets, who only write about it.
"Writing is like having sex with a beautiful freak; adventurous and uncomfortable to the extreme." - m. lecrivain 2004
AL-Khemia Poetica
marie.lecrivain.pd@gmail.com
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Camille |
Camille shaped
her hands to Rodin’s head
in her lap.
Sublimation is channeling passion
into another language I cannot speak.
I want to build a connection:
feel
what you feel,
see
what you see,
be with you
and you
simultaneously.
Desire is not rational.
Camille molded Rodin’s anger
with her absent-minded touch
while
her mind traveled
elsewhere.
To seduce you,
I dress in alien trappings
of syntax and cadence.
Attractive, I've
caught your attention.
I can be like you,
appreciate your qualities
and hope you find me
interesting enough,
to stay around and seek
the real soul
under my disguise…
and love me anyway.
Camille’s mind
was a place where Rodin
could never lay his head.
Substitution never works.
I can acclimate,
even assimilate
your ways
adopt them as my own.
Still,
true self cannot not be denied.
I transcend
the layers of you.
If it’s not
what you want
I suffer through
the disgrace of rejection,
and my lack of good judgment.
In the end
I am better for it.
Pain adds
texture and colors
my future actions
and thoughts of expression.
Camille departed the space
with the shape of Rodin’s head
sculpted in her hands.
copyright 2004
Marie Lecrivain |
