First principles in fashion design

I am covered in words

Confused by their meaning


Men of letters will smile

At my simplicity

But I am comfortable

In naivety

If honesty is straight

That line will do

And those learned men

Who swim in the alphabet pool

And sculpt sophistication

With clever tongues

Can follow a circuitous route

I am small  


Brain Dance


Tight. The channels weave

Threads of elastic pangs

Churn, bite, slobber and tug

 My head. This playground for a war.

That I have enjoined

 Chemicals and spirits dance

 Dark matter dampens an aura

 But desperate sparks

Spoil for the fight

 Lost neural connections lay

 Limp, ragged and frayed

Waiting as if, lightning would strike

 Nothing casual will occur.

While the infant furies

Lay bare unexploded lodes.