"The pen with which I write shakes between my fingers, leaving behind its rusted nib a dark and jagged trail that will confess my sin. A sin committed over quarter of a century, the sin that was my enlightenment. And despite the years that have passed between my transgression and my confession, despite the dilution of memories not important enough to keep, there is no fear that the details contained in these pages are not filled to overflowing with vitality."
As a petal
of a rose
With soft and
pearly skin
Which flies
in the wind
Iridescent
under the sun's rays
And reddening
in the twilight glow
You open to my lips
your smooth and pink flower
You offer to my breath
Its intoxicating fragrance
You offer to our sex
its delicate velvet
As a smooth nest
welcoming my warm semen
