Picnic Thoughts

A contemporary of
a well dressed
bed begging
to be messed

undressed,
your skin
is a clean sheet
I cannot wait
to climb upon
and wrinkle.

How the Mighty Have Fallen

A crown from a New Orleans gravestone that had crumbled off and fallen to the ground.

Ruffling Your Feathers Is Too Easy.

Mostly unfurnished and small,
your heart contains little
but a perch for you to roost upon
and a mirror at which you can focus
your limited attention
towards your favorite subject
with two dead eyes
while squawking
I'M A PRETTY GIRL
I'M A PRETTY GIRL
I'M A PRETTY GIRL.

I Don't Like Birds But I Love You

Beneath the murk
of barely morning

lids and shared blankets
shutter early light

but when skin
joins skin

my pulse rises
faster than the sleepy

sun and sings louder
than any stupid bird.

A Day Off Feel a Little like Nirvana

Honey on Silk

"Honey on silk"
makes me question
Henry Miller's
knowledge of

women.

A sticky sweetness
upon natural woven fiber
is a disaster
never to be rubbed in
and always to be kept
away from heat

no less a penis.

A good lover
should chose his
words more

carefully.

Bad Aim : Mardi Gras Beads Tangled in Tree