I have seen her a stealthily frail flower walking with its fellows in the death of light,against whose enormous curves of flesh exactly cubes of tiny fragrance try; i have watched certain petals rapidly wish in the corners of her youth;whom,fiercely shy and gently brutal, the prettiest wrath of blossoms dishevelling made a pale fracas upon the accurate moon…. Across the important gardens her body will come toward me with its hurting ****** smell of lilies….beyond night’s silken immense swoon the moon is like a floating silver hell a song of adolescent ivory.