I have bent bars,

In my walk-in closet,

From cages that I’ve broken out of.


I have bowed bindings,

In my dresser’s drawers,

From noxious bonds I was previously cuffed to.


I have mountains of metal shards,

Of dangerous types,

Of connections I chose to disregard,

And stereotype,

Into a category of things I know to keep away from.


Cage-less, boundless, endless, I am,

Dauntless, intrepid, gutty, I am,

Lovely without restrictions bursting into forever space,

I am naïve to fatalism,

And deaf to negativities through tongue,



On Water

We, captains, in ships

Over deep waters in pictures,

Without captions,

Unwritten direction with currents controlless.

We protect our crews with commands,

And compliance with the ocean’s demands…

As the tides demonstrating dominion, we cannot concede our domain.

In-Group bands never severe by consistent throes



The water, other ships,

The ocean, many grips,

On many throats,

Many cannot refuse to choke,

On the controllable,

The sporadic and unholdable.


When we depart,
With our belongings,
And minds,
We will hurt,
From the severance,
We will shatter,
From the divide,
We will ache,
In lone places,
And convince ourselves,
We are better off.

When we realize what,
What we cannot,
In real silence,
We will regret,
Decisions made,
When we were better off.

I Don’t Have To

Who says I have to smile?,
Sometimes I want to frown against the cold wind to dry my lips,
Maybe when I notice my face hurts from intensely smiling at things that don’t smile back,
Like car door handles,
Or people.

Maybe when I wake up I want to begin the day with a slouchy frown and mean words,
Maybe I want to yell my daily breakfast of thorns and steel into existence,
I don’t have to smile if my face doesn’t want to, people will just have accept,
Mr. Frowny Pants.


If I could,
Just once,
Accept her limits,
Adopt her boundaries,
Devour her structure,
If I could,
Just once,
Make her little,
Break her innocence,
Make her sound,
If I could,
Just once,
Forget her safety,
Numb my heart,
Open my palms,
And grab her void.

If I could,
Just once,
Approach with meaning,
And leave defined,
To the one holding my attention.


The blood with cow, pineapple juice and a cigarette,
A decorated dinner fork stabbed into the thick meat,
With a knife, work and stretch,
Be neat…

Paper towels folded in 4 x4 square sets,
For when I’m gone and it’s time for the kiddoes to eat,
Three homemade stained saucers still wet,
Three small seats.

A knock on the kitchen door, it’s the nanny,
The kids awake,
She’s a little late,
A kiss on the kids’ foreheads…
A step outside into freezing cold,
I shut the door and expand the umbrella,
A walk to night to work all night,
To return in morning at the break of sunlight,
They, firm in school, with worries aside,
I, firm in pain with worries inside,
2:15 hits the school bell tolls,
A charging children to yearn for my hold,
A surreal feeling that never gets old,
Conversations on trails witnessed within the day,
A closed mouth father to hear what they have to say,
Home now reached,
Complaints now preached,
Homework now taught,
9:34 they now asleep,
A knock on the kitchen door, it’s the nanny, it’s time for them to eat,
I step into the cold street…
Where the manholes steam and horns screech,
Every time I shut that door…I become weak,
I become strong because they need me to be concrete…and there at 2:15.

Marcus Run

Walking speedily,
Nostrils flaring,
Ears processing the raggedy wheels,
All senses used to ask oneself,
Where’s the guinea pig food?

Weird stares,
Weird people,
Wearing weird layers,
Obnoxious placement for rodent food,
Only 3 dollars, okay…maybe it wasn’t so rude,
Swerving through giant median baskets holding miscellaneous essentials,
10 items or less…I have 6,
So less,
Checkout accomplished,
Hands molded around the steering wheel,
Red light,
Quick tapping feet,
Quickly passing streets,
Now home with my rad ass guinea pig with something to eat,
Now it’s time to sleep.