I AM A HORSE.

You are a rat,
I am a horse.

you are a man,
I am a woman.

You are a Sea Cowboy,
I am a land Cowgirl.

You are night.

I am day.

You are mythology,
I am Poetry.

You are a pencil,

I am a pen

You are Rock N' Roll,

I am the Blues.

You are Morrison,

I am Joplin.

You are the tip of the boot,

I am the sole.

You are a head of curls,

I am straight head of hair.

You are Sage, 

I am Piñon 

You are a musician,

I am practicing.

You are a wall of weapons,

I am a dagger.

You are a loud ear piercing laugh, 

I am the cause.

You are electric,

I am acoustic.

You are giving,

I am a thief,

To all the clothes
in your closet                             

March 28, 2016 - Arco, Idaho

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

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.

HOME.

"home is where the heart is"

-or so I've been told-

My heart may be in my home,

 but i take it with me

when i leave.

home is merely a place, 

to hold my things.

"Home is within"