Exploring each other's depths, that surge of connection which makes the world seem sane, that exchange of spirit in the guise of flesh, that morning hallelujah, that hook to eternity. . . . All day I bear you between my legs, & in my heart. Powered by your love, there is no hill too high to climb, no paragraph I cannot write, no hosanna I cannot howl. . . . Shall we wear it down with habit? Shall that combustible connection become, in time, homier than fresh bread, nourishing but unsurprising? O my lover meet me in the hollow of a red thigh, by mountains which resemble spouting co*ks. . . . We will keep the madness fresh- the red madness that keeps us sane.