Marceline White


At 40, I wrote that I
was standing at
the crossroads of
madness and clarity
looking for direction.

Now, I can tell you,
That I am well and
truly lost.

I am beyond redemption-
Hell, I'm expired-do not
redeem me. But, today
I rage, I raze, I blaze an
ash path. I have crossed
The chasm of middle age
on a bridge of regret.

I have bled the river dry.
I have bled like a river.
mopped the current
like spilled milk. Spoiled
Milk. Milked dry.
Dried out. Dried up.

In Baltimore, once more, I sleep alone.
I've often said "No" to simple pleasures
And "Yes" to future tragedies
in the smallest sense
"bad men, no money, too much to drink".
Rinse and repeat the cycle.

The personal is political
and the political affects me personally.
It is time to make sense of the chaos
pick up the pieces, say "No More" to
abusers, large and small.
to join together with other crazy
lunatics living on the fringe
To make the margin the center
And to make the center hold.


Marceline White is a writer based in Baltimore, Maryland. She writes policy, prose, poems, essays, and plays. An artist and activist, Marceline's writing is forthcoming or has appeared in The Copperfield Review, The Free State Review, The Loch Raven Review, The Shattered Wig Review, anthologies including Ancient Party: Collaborations in Baltimore, 2000-2010, and Life in Me Like Grass on Fire. Essays, op-eds, and other writing has appeared in Woman's Day, Baltimore Fishbowl, Baltimore Sun, and Mother Jones.