Every time I hear Leonard Nimoys' voice
I think to myself
Dammn
That guy
****
He was the Man!
Acting his way into a life's role
Intellectual
Empathic
******* hard
It brings up
Why
Do I think ******* are hard?!
Oh wait
No
It really brings up
Why
Can I see this Man with little
More
Than a cinema bio
And his makedup ears
Giving me emotional comfort
His voice offering insight
Without ever attending brunch
Together

(JL)

always a reflection
a sorrel mare with one white sock
a stock color to produce
whatever you would want
this is where i have been
eternity trapped in this..... mask?
i wear no mask!
i was not burned in acid, or something.....
only stuck being the kind of girl
you would take home to Mom
after a week of fun
my always open arms
embracing the human flaw
the Greek hero who drowned
reaching for himself.....
.....me......
it's not conceit
anyone who has looked has seen
a reflection of themselves
their wants
their dreams
not a carbon copy
only this reflection
imperfectly perfectly
what every man wants
is it any wonder
i always wanted to be a Grulla instead.........

(JL)

I was nothing more
Two eyes and two ears
With two hearts
Out of mind
All the while gazing
Always through the fire

All the fires
Others fires
Mirroring each flick and fleck
Over and over
The same fire
All the while
Denying
The heat burning my toes
Ignoring
The flames skrimshawing
In the soot of my soul

Two hands dipped in paint
Stringing sentences around my neck
Two legs limp
Burned and bleached
Logs of what the fire ate up
Nothing more
But smoke
Dancing through the leaves
Of books I had wrote
Meant to write
Watched be written

None of them mine

Too long I had gazed
Endlessly into the flames
Throwing paper into the fire
That has burned me up

Blackened stumps dot
The leather
Cover of my skin
Italics in bold sans script
Read
Two eyes and two ears
Two hands
Two legs
heart
mind
Pencil
Paper
Battery
Steel wool
.......... Grinning still

Nothing more

(JL)

I've been writing this novel
For a long time
As long
As I have
Been alive
Centered in lead
Scratching on paper
Cursively engaging
Building in plot
Filling in the margins
With side machinations
Occasionally
Pausing
Lingering on a particular line
While taking the care to design
A bookmark
(Bookmarks
Those crafty place keepers
Designed in paint and pen ink
Thicker than page
Indenting the chapter
Permanently altering
The binding)
Ornanate slips of cardstock
Decorated
In delicate flourish
Complex mandellas
Sacred geometric design
This novel I am writing
It's leafs dogtoothed
Still awaiting it's leather
Porcupined and thickened throughout
Promises
To be the intrigue of a lifetime
If only for the art itself

(JL)

I begin every day with a fluttered lid
A deep breathe
And certain knowledge that everyone
Lies
It iss not to say that it is something
Constantly expected
Or projected
Just that I am prepared
So that when the lie happens
My heart is not soo broken
As to lose sight of the fact that we are all
In fact
Only human
In spite of the benefit of no doubt
That I imagine Gwen herself
Did not find funny
But I do
Everytime.....
Everytime

(JL)

I do not believe in
God
His ever present
Essence
Nothing more than
A lingering scent
Long after the kitchen
Has been cleaned
And the dish washer run
Of roasted pork
Garlic potatoes and boiled gravy

(JL)