#94

Held high, or low, the chin in contemplation. And the sloping side of mattress-love. Says: "Many many words to tie into the starting-point of now-we-are." Flares the sun, off snow, flashback, and a handy visor. Act like Actaeon beholding hornily. Sebaceous prominence. The itch of the head: enigma. Saturday, I'm afraid, was Stephen's. But Sunday, you were soft as Sarah. Brother, may I have this lance? Oh, I tire of the fragement: I will not keep it up.