in these days of sheltering on the isle-of-isolactation,
a place amazingly located just ‘bout everywhere,
staying occupado is muy importanto

taught myself Latvian, can identify a thousand Avian,
can vacuum the house in ten minutes flat,
can count my steps mentally walking from the bed
to the kitchen and on the way back again, detour via the den

when I get really bored, sneak away to grab the laundry
from the dryer, I’m on fire, desirous of my sanity, fold them twice,
so they’ll be enough nice to meet her exacting standards,
going directly into her highest level, Type A,  storage drawers

but hit a snag, on certain articles of activewear, not to mention
you know, the unmentionables, which don’t present corners or angles
to lend novice folders directional cues, cannot even determine
which is inside out, or outside out, with too many bedeviling straps

too proud to ask for directions, after all I am a grown man,
checked youtube buddy, they had no clue, unless it was a tutorial
on how to remove them bodices from them body, which I will,
study later...but I winged it except for those couple of items

which I hid under her too many bed pillows!

The darkness seemed to envelope me


The folds and crevices beckoned to thee


It was so huge it swallowed me up 


To escape would take all of my luck 


I took it into my arms and pushed it in


Oh how my arms felt fragile and thin


Eternity was the time it took


Until my mind was raw and shook


The darkness I had defeated thee


Yes I had defeated the horrid LAUNDRY


Then there was more

Slightly warm mostly beige
This is what I wear today
Maybe stripes polka dots
Here I am at the spot

( chorus )
The laundromat's on fire
Even though the socks have no matches
Everyone's desire
Not to show off any patches

Mostly worn kinda frayed
The years are displayed
Think I found enough change
It's laundry day all the same

( chorus )
The laundromat's on fire
Even though the socks have no matches
Everyone's desire
Not to show off any patches

At night, under the dim darkness,
I found, the world’s best tranquilness
Under wafts of water and soap
Folding clothes, dreaming about hope.

Opened the door, felt how snug, warm,
The fabric’s touch was on my arm
As I folded each piece with care
And slowly roll socks, pair by pair.

Ballads, dolce, I am entranced.
Cantabile, as my hands danced
To the guitar's riff, the drumbeat,
Sweet heartbeat, beneath their heat.

Take me somewhere
Where I can fold your clothes
And sing a song for you

If I could know
The sorrows and dreams
that bring you to your knees

I would sit back
Take your stack
And fold it right down the middle

It's all I could do for you
Put a crease
In your sad dreams

A mom is here
Doing laundry
I ought to help
Just here waiting
Till' she's finished
Washing and operating
The Mecin cuci
Or so-called washing machine

She put the clothes
Around it, one by one
She pour it
Until it's finished
Another batch is waiting,

Next, she hang it on
A wire line, some on
A plastic array
Of divided spaces

Until it dries by the suns heat
Overtime, now it's time
To collect it
Yes, It's our job to fold it and
Order 'em in our
Respective cabinets

Until another time,
Another day of washing
Laundry

5:00am and folding laundry

when the inspiration tank is yellow lit,
and E stands for more than empty,
but evacuation,
try this remedy,
a first generation family secret!

fold the laundry.
all kinds.
his n' hers,
blacks n' whites
really clean and

and the kind that never get clean,
no matter how much d e t e r-g e n t
you use, how oft you wash 'em...

Instructions:

1. fold only when wearing t- shirt, tank top, briefs (optional)
2. put on Pandora 60's rock n ' roll (folk rock - highly recommend Runaround Sue by Dion and the Belmonts, The Wedding Song, The House of the Rising Sun)
3. dance, shake, improve your moves when nobody's looking
3a. control yourself, if you must sing, at the top of your lungs is not acceptable.
If alone skip, skip to no. 5
4. every third piece give a sniff, get high on
fresh starts, clean notions, the idea that all can be washed away
4a. Every third piece of hers give an extra sniff,
so you can know why love keeps you alive
5. if you have to sing, then only loud is acceptable
(***** the others, you're doing the folding, they're sleep-dreaming)
6. drink lots of water
7. have pen + paper handy cause ain't no doubt
the poet puppet muse masters gonna smack you down
when folding sheets alone.
8. finish the write and post it ASAP
9. always leave the single socks on top of the dryer,
a prayer to the laundry gods for the
safe return of their better halves
10. finish
11. If done correctly, you need to shower (wash hair!)
12, around 6:00am, all scrubbed and clean,
fold yourself back into her arms. Snuggle, spoon.
13. when she mumbles you smell clean, you reply,
                                  "been folding laundry, writing poetry,
                                   and the clean smell done fell on me"
14. if alone, despair not, read this poem and know we are together
15. believe this day is full of possibilities,
write me a poem, put the load right on me

there are stains that cannot be removed,
deterred by this gent, and his a-gents,
they are history, treat'em with respect
and not more
deter-gent

every poem must end,
so when the folding is done,
whisper:

*the day ahead is full of possibilities
like the pleasured reinvigorating of my clothes,
once happy soiled, now happy cleansed,
so I possess an excuse, a reason,
a rationale for living
to fold laundry again!

I dumped my laundry
On the ground
Hoping it would allow me
To feel motivated

Motivated to move
To clean to work
But all it did
Was sit on my floor

I sat with it too
Staring at the pile.
Looking for the answers
Written in my shirts