RED SIXTEEN.

HWY 80 HEADED WEST TO RENO

Sky scraper lights, 

escalators

baby boomers on coke

rich testoseron on gin.

Cheap cigars, 

ACID

slots

Diamonds & 7s

Shrieks of laughter

excitement 

When we win 

big

Defeat.

Roulette,

free champagne 

Lucky #

Red Sixteen

Big Win 

*Break*

All on black?

another cigar

lost it all 

the ball falls on 

RED SIXTEEN 

5 AM

NO money to show for shit

gambling lesson 

from Reno hell,

Johnny Cash

sings us to sleep
the sun rises. 

"I shot a man in Reno

Just to watch him die"

SARDINES.

Sao Miguel, Portugal

We pulled off a dirt road following our sixth sense  

To the the Gray Sea

Tessa strummed imperfect notes on her Eukalale,

fading fast

 as we ran down the labyrinth stone staircase

to meet the water face to face.

the waves shook  

the shore, 

Also shaking the five barrels of emotions 

we each hid in the holsters at our hips.

Sea salt tears,

 a can of sardines, a brick of brie  & a shoe 

 to open a corner store bottle

 of red we had thrown our coins together for.

I

we  fell into conversation,

the same way the rocks had fallen from the hepatic covered cliffs above us

to the seats beneath us

Sharing in growth with the moss 

&

crack creatures

at our feet.

Tessa's Birthday 

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

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

THE ORANGE COUCH.

Aaron,

(Coyote)

By the time you'll be reading this, 

Ill be a thousands of miles away.

Preparing to face Anacondas, sickness, & a past life

of both love and buried pain.

--

If I am afraid, 

I know your light will search for me and draw me out 

of the darkest of places.

 miles between us, 

are only empty lots for bridges you will build. 

 If I close my lids & tremble, 

will you take my hand to the orange couch across

from the wood burning fireplace?

Your heart against mine.

I trust you will.

You are not of this earth.

You are like me.

You are magic.

You said it yourself,

"we aren't supposed to be like this."

Ill say it again.

"What if we are?"

What if this life is a backwoods cigar, 

the sound of crickets 

and a fires cackle.

What if life is not always trapped, 

but always finding freedom.

YOU,
Hold all the truths,
to unlock 
ALL the chains inside.

In a tiny little box,

In the biggest of hearts.

-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.