The pretty girls of the fall are not all barren as these that fly down on the north of the mind through the eye of the south, the red radishes of their bare knees advertising the onset of sleep
Bears do not hibernate; they sleep away a lardy intoxication, and their ladies give them the nod inside the leaves a call summoning the naked beast.
Some women are scared by beasts, some animals by clumsy calls. Some daughters make their fathers fall. Some eyes shoot throuth the mind like the north wind, then sleep. Some minds, dying, drop to their knees.
But the prettiest fall of all is my own in a gesture of love as I are throuth the heaven of death and the angels blow my body on, and I head for the heart of a girl on the soft white breast of the world.
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