THE PARLOR.

Ivanhoe Manor,

Milwaukee WI

(My Home)

My flat was the Parlor of a bloodless blue Mansion

 dating back to the late 1800s.

The light would flood

waves of poetry onto my skin,

across, beneath & between

 my most delicate parts.

At Golden Hour

my shadows would whisper each verse to me, 

the way Cohen would whisper to Marianne.

I wonder if I have ever been a Muse?

To a stranger?

To a loved one?

The way

 I felt Muse 

to the Star in my Parlor

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.

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.

THE DESERT.

THE DESERT.
"A Palette of Color"

It looks like God
placed a few extra stars in the sky..
scattered a bunch of boulders,
then placed them carefully for the gazers.

...

He must have covered it in sharp things,

in spite of its beauty.

JOSHUA TREE, CA

NATASHA.

MEET NATASHA;

& all her faces

 till the hungry film came

MARIBEL.

93.2 Miles, A little under 1/2 tank of gas, and one daisy chain later lead us to the middle of nowhere where an Eerie, yet enchanting forest exist. 

The trees were black and burned;
the river was full of red mud.

MARIBEL, WI

NOSTALGIA

Life – An existence that can be taken from us at any moment, forcing the ones around us to be trapped in a snow globe of nostalgia.

I have never seen death. I have never looked one who was dying in the eyes to wish them safe travels to the other side, wherever that side may be.  Recently a few close to me have experienced loss. I watch them closely as they shift their eyes the same as their bodies in their chairs. These gestures seem uneasy and I can almost sense the agony they must be feeling. To have loved and to have lost what once was.

I analyze every stutter and awkward pause. A silence that becomes so loud I can almost hear it. A song for those who left, to come home, exits into the air.

I placed Amy in an abandoned green house. It was gutted from its botanical life. I tried to paint a picture for her mind, so she could imagine a beauty and create what once existed. She asked many questions. The questions asked were formed from a fresh curiosity to devise a deeper understanding of her whereabouts during the shoot. The pictures I chose to keep were the ones where I saw her longing for what once was and what will never be again.

I am sorry if you have ever lost, but I have gained so much from you.