HAZE.

 Flaming River Gorge, Wyoming

(headed south west)

Bare Skin & Sage Brush

The pungent fragrance 

lures her off the highway to heal.

It is there she'll shed her skin, 

ever so similar to the Prairie Rattlesnakes 

amongst her.

The heavy haze holding her spirit prisoner

is forced out with her clear mind,

As she transforms out of fine dust n smoke,

The desert haze knows to meet the horizon.

"we will shed many skins &a we will learn many a times"

-L

CISCO.

-Cisco, Utah-

"A barber shop for the living & a playground for the dead"

It was a hot, dry morning... 

the sun was no kisser either, 

it was no gentle beam of light,

scraping our skin, 

turning our flesh to weathered western leather.

In the afternoon

I watched Eileen take my lovers identity with a shitty clippers, 

minutes after I watched him take hers, 

willfully losing themselves in RV mirrors together.

I did not know much about this woman,

I just knew this was her town...

little did i know,

her town would soon speak volumes of her to me.

 by the end of Cisco,

I would have lived and breathed my dear Eileen.

However, 

I truly believe 

not all sacred moments that come to man are meant to be spoken of,

but are to be kept atop the rocks alongside river bend,

or with the cougars in the shadow of the unknown.

"with every shooting star I wished a wish I'll never say."

with every shooting star she'd gasp, 

and then we'd lay"

SCALLOPS & COHEN.

Belfast, Maine.

In the morning, 

Tessa eats blueberry ice-cream,

it tastes like shit.

we both agree.

New England & Lyme's Disease Fears

A Tic creeps toward me on the steering wheel, 

a scream turns to a swerve on Hwy 1

ashamed of my backbone

Acadias Dashboard mugshot, 

judges my distress

with her dauntless stare.

 In the evening, 

You cook me scallops over maps of Maine

12 scallops & 8 dollars later

we bump hips, 

occasionally stepping on toes,

propane stove.

In the Night,

you lay on the ground 

acting out "loneliness" by Leonard Cohen

three logs and sheeps wool starts the perfect fire. 

I still smell the scallops 

the cabarant is gone.

the empty liter sits beneath the bench,

in the rain.

The black book of poetry is wet, 

it doesn't matter.

All that matters are Cohens words 

he's such a smart guy.

The moose skull above our cabin,

makes me ponder life and death.

OBSIDIAN.

Pocatello, Idaho

The light is different in Idaho.

It is like if Iceland had a child, & that child strayed from its nordic ways due to curious angst & impulse; eventually, rediscovering its roots while making love on top obsidian mountains, falling nothing short of brave alongside rattle snake thickets. 

-

The sun encompassed her body in the car, almost as perfect as the

 60 watt illuminated her skin in the Thunderbird motel room. 

I often wonder, 

why the lingering smell of Marlboro reds & dusted PTAC wall heaters 

make me feel so at home?

 $39 

ROCKET DREAMS.

  Tennessee & side of the road abandoned amusement parks,

before the tourist hell hole I like to call Pigeon Forge.

You know, 

Mock titanic ships,

upside down haunted houses, 

Giant gorilla's scaling crooked towers with beaming red eyes.

I still think about this burnt red whip, 

but I doubt even the finest elbow grease of all my mechanic-man friends could get it's engine up and running. 

What I was more interested in, was the rocket ship. 

 After 9 hours or so on flat highway cut with corn, 

I would rather just dip out to the moon.

SAGE.

 We have one rule on the road: 

"If your eyes at any moment spot a place, feeling, or light worthy of the lens, slam the brakes."

To capture time is more appealing then to race it I believe.

 It was a blistering heat,  

So we tossed our slips on a Juniper rooted along the creek, the one  our sunburnt, clay braised bodies thirsted for.  

Tessa's hands doubled as pans as I watched her sift stones through her fingertips.

Water Striders danced across the surface & around my calves, clumsily bumping into one another for my entertainment.

Sagebrush lined the base of Pinion pines as cracks lined My lip skin, splitting like the desert ground I stood upon. We bundled Sage and tied it together with sweetgrass, knowing one day evil spirits would find us, ones we would soon smudge away. 

KUM & GO.

SHELL, 

BP,

ON STAR, 

EXXON,

KWIK TRIP, 

MOBIL,

SINCLAIR,

TEXACO,

PILOT,

LOVES,

KUM & GO...

I've pissed in about every one of em, 

stocked up, 

emptied out,

thrown down washington's, lincoln's, but mostly tubmans between long drawn out mile markers. 

"to this day my hat still goes off to the man who got away with Kum & Go..."

Testing my luck with $2 scratch offs & clepto-esque mannerisms for  cured meat & Pay Days , NO shame because NO bank but Baby Face would be proud. 

There's something about the fluorescent lights, 

stench of gasoline, n' gum n oil stained concrete that makes my insides feel good, or maybe i'm just momentarily high off the free fumes.

could be the shit gas station coffee,

but probably not.

ANXIETY.

anxiety

noun  anx·i·ety \aŋ-ˈzī-ə-tē\

Never invited, 

always shows up.

wreaks havoc, 

 leaves. 

Nicotine & Jack prescribed by the local 

gas-station clerk. 

I wonder how he's doing?

such a well-versed, educated man. 

scaling stainless steel carriages,

only because we couldn't get the fuc*in car to start. 

NATURE'S PENDLETON.

The cliffs were quiet, 

Common Gulls at eye level.

The afternoon light contrasted the primary colors, 

Colors only meant to be captured in great paintings or film. 

Our cameras ate rolls of film, 

like the irish guzzled stew and rolls.

Every 30 minutes, one of us a took a knee to pocket a canisters containing clips of colors, we would only hope to later posses photographs of.  

  
Tall beds of soft, moss-like grass covered the 
eroded shale & sandstone with colors, dubbed as Nature's Pendleton.  
--
I watched their bodies lean just far enough over the edge to make any passer-by gasp in fear..imaginations wandering to premontions of sudden death. 

Enduringly observing the women I walked alongside, 
carelessly doze off in scurvy grass while picking the petals off Sheeps Bit. 

The sun eventually decided to nod off with each of them on the cliffside, but their eyes had now seen a light too great to ever let leave... 

They ran as fast as they could to the very end, as if they would never see the sun again, as if it would never awake & the moon would hold the colors captive forever.   

 Cliffs Of Moher, Ireland