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  May 2005
volume 3 number 2
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  contributing poets
  Aurora Antonovic
  Tom Berman
  Cristogianni Borsella
  Dana Campbell
  Tobi Cogswell
  Peggy Dobreer
  Francisco Dominguez
  Marvin Dorsey
  Melissa Fischer
  Steve Goldman
  Melanie Gonzalez
  Wendy Grosskopf
  Debashish Haar
  Matt Harris
  Paula Sfier Kattan
  Marie Lecrivain
  Laura A. Lionello
  Harold Lorin
  Christopher Mulrooney
  Dave Nordling
  Aire Celeste Norell
  Angel Perales
  Catherine Rajca
  Cat Risinger
  Ariel Robello
  Kate Soto
  Clee Villasor
  mailing list
Marie Lecrivain
May 2005



photo by marie c lecrivain

    Marie C Lecrivain is the executive editor and publisher of poeticdiversity: the litzine of Los Angeles, a jewelry designer, and a writer in residence at her apartment.
    Her prose and poetry have appeared in a number of journals and anthologies, including: The Los Angeles Review, Nonbinary Review, Gargoyle, Pirene's Fountain, Orbis, A New Ulster, and others.
    Marie's newest poetry chapbook, Fourth Planet From the Sun, will be published in 2020 by Rum Razor Press. She's an associate fiction/essay editor for The Good Works Review, and the curator of several anthologies including Octavia's Brood: Words and Art inspired by O.E. Butler (© 2014 Sybaritic Press), Rubicon: Words and Art Inspired by Oscar Wilde's "De Profundis" (© 2015 Sybaritic Press), and Gondal Heights: A Bronte Tribute Anthology (© 2019 Sybaritic Press).
    Marie's avocations include photography; meditation; Libers CCXX and XV; marmosets; Christopher Eccleston, H.P. Lovecraft, and Sean Bean (depending on what day of the week it is); her co-owned cat Guinness; misfit and vintage dolls; 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
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"By the time a person has achieved years

adequate for choosing a direction, the die is cast

and the moment has long since passed

which determined the future."
-Zelda Fitzgerald

The charred ruins of Daisy

are all that remain.

When did she cast the die?

Shaped by a new century,

she fastened a silver spoon

to the kite-strings

of her freewheeling fancy

& pursued its course

into the arms

of the Jazz Man

where she assumed

the mantle of a de-facto muse.

She flapped her way

into history books

with the right combination

of champagne chutzpah

& joie de vivre.

The Jazz Man watched

her twirl around

the flame of his ambition

with that particular smile

reserved for lapdogs & children.

A yokel can be forgiven

many sins, especially when she

is beautiful.

Brick walls became

gossamer tents,

rent opened

by words sharpened

into knives

to cut away the illusion

she wove for her protection,

& the glass bowl

of her mind

became obscured by

clouds of denial, but

even more lovely.

Contrary to what Papa

might have said,

she wasn't lost

like the rest

of her generation.

She never mistook

the crashing sounds

of the Gilded Age

for the clashing of cymbals.

She hid nothing, but

became a genius with pain

as she swung adroitly

on a pendulum

between desire &

damnation. She flung

pastel paper dolls

into the void.

Mania was her art.

Fire engulfed her.

Tragic, but not surprising;

no one expected

anything less.

The die she cast

was no time wasted,

& no decision regretted.

Her real talent lay

in staying the course

with a wink

...& no apologies.

copyright 2004 Marie Lecrivain