I've Got A Feeling, Wearing My Favorite Fabric in the Afternoon.

J'aime le fabric.

It is silk.
Soft, against baby soft skin
and painful ingrown hairs.

The Japanese fabric
swirls and twirls
the creative mind around and around.

Circulating tiny war figures
colorfully through the brain.

-------------


I give my tears to the tiny warriors on my nightgown.

They flow poignantly down my cheeks, onto my bare chest,
where my tortured Catholic school girl soul shouts
into a blissful darkness
and my inner beast lingers,
waiting to pounce.

---------------


I quite like this silk Japanese fabric.

Protected under the thinnest, brightest fabric;
I feel emotionally sound.

Obviously.

Finger through the Hole

There is something to be done

                                               about the cosmic rhythm of love and sex.






        The mind confuses the two, more often
                                                                       than not.



                               Thank not.



                                                  

it's easy to call you mine.

your silhouette
under the thick jean comforter,
balled in the corner of my full sized bed.

strands of red hair stick out of the blanket,
even in the dark
one is able to see the greasy red mess
that lay hidden under
the treacherous mess.

i smile at you.

i climb into bed,
fully clothed-
jeans, wool socks, your Beatles cut off.
7:23 am.

laying next to you
in the darkness
all is just fine.

8:00 am.
glass of wine.

i'll call you mine.