what are you really
prepared to do
with a
living falcon,
other than
put her in a cage?

if you didn't deserve them,
the words would not come for you.

i used to wonder
what it would be like
to be an adult.

to be a part of the age group
that is running the world,
to know i was equal
and to understand my responsibility.

what would it be like to be in charge
of even the most precious
of our responsibility:
the lives of our c h i l d r e n.

only to come to find out
that most adults
lack the courage and compassion
to do the job.

and in the face of
CHILDREN MURDERING CHILDREN
WITH THE ADULT'S WEAPONS
they are met with only a
cowardly silence.

i'm back
and i claim this place
(queen of this space)
s u n | is | m i n e
sculptures are mine
t r e e s |are| mine
water is mine
music is mine.

not a single thing
can be taken
when there is
nothing to be had

what i thought was
black is
grey
grey
grey

and the water
doesn't stop flowing
and no new sun
rises for me.

long drive on
autopilot

glimpses of mascara
smudges in
the rearview mirror

songs chosen for
their visceral sadness

an utter trainwreck of
good intentions
and
for the life of me
i can't figure out
what to do
or say

(in my heart of hearts)


to please stop
asking me to
a c c e p t the cookies.

i feel sorry for you
since you don't even know
i am a golden lion
swimming in pink petals.

some kind of constant lurching.
some kind of wildly flailing
forging ahead.

no matter how hard
i try
i cannot do this thing

no matter how many nights
i stare at the wall
empty
i cannot do this thing

no matter how many
open roads i travel
or lies i speak
i cannot do this thing.

i cannot.

the endgame
is
the price.
look around,
this is the
p r i c e.
not free d o m,
freedomf  r o m.

And you may ask yourself, "How did I get here?"
And you may ask yourself, "Where is that shiny automobile?"

And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful house"
And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful face"

And when the task before you
is thousands of files,
staple - on staple - on staple
You bite that bullet,
Staple Lord.

With every fiber of your being,
you hunt them down
and wrangle them out
like you were born for the thing;
because you are alive and
it's the task before you.

you tear dem ******* out like
it's your Sistine Chapel.

do all things this way
nothing is wasted.

the light of your attention
reflecting back on you.

secret sinful
glittering pain
yes, i am real.
yes, i really did that.
i
the me that is not me
the i that is more me
than anyone else.
there is no strength in wavering.
the power is in me,
and i am the fury.

it's nothing serious, no
i fade              
and shift
into the
background
        holding
onto cold, dark
         winter
warm candlelight and
the feel of you,
but
no, it's nothing serious
     see me      
advance          and
retreat
relishing the spring
air
songs of you

i know, sweet sister
how it feels to be
|turned inside out|
thrown to the wolves
i know, i know, i know.

enemies at the gates?
i know.
women like snakes?
i know.
feel yourself clawing to the surface?
i know.

no words will suffice
no words will mend
no words spit
and no words cried
i know, i know, i know.

lies upon lies upon lies?
i know.
still you care?
| i know |

nowhere to turn?
i know.
rage to waken the devil?
i know.
sadness.
| i know |

and
| i know you |
and i would be
*nothing without you.

imagine.

you are a 14 year old boy
and one day
a strange, 45 year old woman
that you have never met

comes running at you
full speed while you
are walking home from school.

she knocks you to the ground
and kicks you in the stomach.
drags you to her car.

she pulls a screaming baby
out of a carseat and
forces it into your arms.
tells you it's yours now.
it's registered in your name.

while you stand there in
shock and disbelief
blood dripping down your face
she warns you that if you
ever tell anyone about
what just happened she
will ****** your entire family.

she gets in her car
speeds off and
you never see her again.

you go home with a
hysterical baby and
tell your parents what happened.

they just shake their heads at you.
you must have done something
to make this happen.

and so sorry,
but you have to keep that baby.
there is no other option.

you are only 14.
still, you are responsible for
making sure that baby doesn't die.

you have to figure out with your 6th grade
education how to
feed your new baby.
and get it healthcare.
and an education.

no more football games for you, son.
you don't matter anymore.

you shouldn't have been walking home
by yourself with a red shirt on.

you plead for help.
your parents don't care.
your friends can't help you.
you can't go to school anymore.
you can't pay for childcare.
and your government wants
to punish YOU.

can you imagine?
because i can.

message send failure
an accidental mullet
a bird on the wire
broken bones
faulty valves
ungiven gifts
welling eyes
icy pavement

(what you can see)

when no one can see what you can see.
when no one can see what you can see.
when no one can see what you can see.

(wait a minute)
borderlands edition
2018

once fear
takes hold
it spreads like fire
all consuming
seemingly alive
and unstoppable.

i am not immune.

and neither are you.

i can almost hear
the horseman rattle
as the stampede decends

“the mexicans are coming!”

The MEXICANS are COMING
“Now!”
“Build a wall!”
“Man the **** deck!”
“Take the children!”

i’m no *****.
if the POTUS is screaming
to take cover from
ms-13,
i listen.
here’s the key, people.
listen.
research.
react.
don’t do it in any other order.
my elementary teachers
taught me about primary
and secondary sources.
i’ve been practicing
my entire life.

and i can tell you,
that immigration from the
southern border has been in
a steady decline for
a decade.

the POTUS’S own people
identified less than
200 ms-13 gang members caught
illegally going over the border.

immigrants are less likely
to commit crimes than
the rest of the population.

listen. - research -
and only then,
r e a c t

(thank christ for teachers)

I did take the drawing down.
So there.

a s p a c e
that grows
s m a l l e r
and
smaller.

you just gotta be knocked down
torn from your last bit of sanity
sometimes...
you just gotta be disassembled
piece by piece
and look on
as an aloof observer
disconnected
separated
scattered
sometimes you have to be
brought
           d
              o
                 w
                    n
                                   humbled
again. and again. and again.
sometimes you just gotta be cut down.

you know
friday night
b u c k w i l d
when it involves
lidocaine patches
naproxen sodium
& ice packs
after challenging yourself
to a dance off
and don’t be a punk
if the patch dislodges
and gets stuck in your hair
just dislodge it again
#onwardandupward
#checkyourhead

the spark caught fire
and i saw a slowly
rotating snowflake on a
black blue background

open to
r e c e i v i n g

a splash
a cymbal
a request

a vanishing tide
an inscription in stone

the ability to
make
f i r e.