Strong vibes resonating
Between the bricks and trees
Melodies married as one
The Den connected friends
Spirits on a whim
5 6 7 8 and then
A pact was born
Smiles laughter and passion
Beyond labels and judgement
Late October mornings feel like arms around my waist
The early sky whispers in my ears
All the answers to reflections I question
I wondered if this cloud knew
Sunsets are passionate and wild
Like a caress on the neck
Something more than a bite on the lip
The night wind chills my skin
Just like the trails of a lover’s finger nails as they pull me in
I bet the moon feels our secrets
I see the crows like to watch
I know the wolves can hear me sing
And my lover chants to the owls for mercy
I will not choose the universe’s sunrises or sunsets
That perfect seventh hour found me
And I intend to be fair
I remember that need
Waking up to morning dew on the skin
Feels like love
Which is the most righteous sin
By Keota Picou
A ha! If there is one word to describe my actions it would be dubious. Such as believing the sweet nothings of the rolling stone variety. At the moment, I laugh at myself for being so idiotic. But it isn’t funny at all, is it? I feel it’s a bit too early to pour myself some Black Magic Rum. Either way, I have to explore it at this point. Me, dubious as I continued to walk through his door. Him, dubious as he looked in the mirror. But that never stopped a lie.
I should’ve charged. Thieves lose hands every night. He’s probably laughing hysterically- belly filled with poison devoured from tongues. There I tore the pages and ate them. There is no more soreness. Some shiny apples are rotten at the core. Little girls better grow up and learn. Savagery and low vibes hide high. But boomerangs continue to deliver. Deep within the marrow he knows..
That his mask will either melt or mold. And both are most certainly the heart break he gave generously.
I would like to be photographed as a silhouette. So they will see all of me.
Every inch they will have to read. And every mile in their minds they will have walked with me.
Yes they rationalize to hold me in. I break the boxes. I damage floors.
My gut is stretching I suppose.
Call me Phoenix
Photography by Nilo Burkhart
Model: Keota Picou
I’ll give you two cents
If you can tell me what my deal is
We can trade our laughs
And sign the seal with codes in oath
You may want to consider
Whether you hold strength in your
Are only letters if you fear them
But I know you fear yourself
A mastery of who
You have no zipper left
Therefore each notch owns you
I will give you a dime
Your words are perfect tens
Who cares if we’re right or wrong
Who corrects minds through lineage
By Keota P
Claws to the scalp
I need your hold
I give it back
I want your bones
Where is my Wolf?
The love we mate
It’s been far too long
Shouldn’t I devour you?
Pour your brew
Your skin is in my head
Tears down my face
I swear I’d claw you
Around trees I wait
And everything aches
Let us feed
The love we mate
May I please have a beat? Just a few of your honesty. And may I please rest my feet on our rocky start laid in front of me. Did you get my message? I left it there in a back bend of emotions. A literal back bend I gave you. One you held without devotion. Back then I wondered how could we make it to the stage. How could I dance with you while unlaced? Where will we go to find our justice? And what if I take a bow to your untruths. What if I dance with some one else? And what if we dance as I dance with you?
I enjoy the cologne of an alpha’s unrest. I enjoy the pounding of hearts out of dress. Here I am, toes on a cold floor as I come down on bended knees. I am happy that I danced with you. I am happy that I was imperfectly me.