“Intentions”

Oh bestow that pungent, dreamy waft of your intent

across sullied sheets, stained pinkish in

crook of elbow, of stubbly cheeks,

of too much sunshine: ferocity.

These afternoon pleasures sing with peppered resolve; drift into our nascent

underbellies like prelude to the requisite laceration.

Oh to be more than a mere keepsake:

an attractive, fleeting bauble precariously

perched on shelf near bed.

Impetuous, languid lapses into rumination accomplish little but sullied pause.

2011-06-07 00.26.00

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