I am a most fleshly man, and see 
in your body what stirs my spirit. 
And my spirit is intimate of my hand, 
intimate of my breast and heart, 
intimate of my parted lips 
that would seek their solace 
in your lips. 

Receive me; worn and warm body I am. 
I am a most fleshly fire, and yearn 
for your body to replenish my flame. 
I would embrace you and name myself 
anew in your flesh. 

The green of eucalyptus boughs 
hung in the distances of the air. 
Les terraces au clair de la lune 
playd in the orb of the afternoon, blue 
and sunlit area where 
we moved. 
The japonaiserie of bay 
and islands in the smoky haze 
seemd to bear the fine imprint, 
distinct and lonely, of the mind's design, 
and beckoning intimation of a love 
in which the days like swallows Hew, 
one by one, from the heart's dim grove 
to trace in their Hight the lineaments of truth. 
I spoke to you and tried to say 
I seek the body's rest in grace. 

O I should have knelt upon the floor 
and wept. 
I should have surrenderd to the body's faith 
and knelt, 
suppliant to the hour's god that came 
and went, 
a luminous shadow in the blood. 

I have made my vow in flesh, and see 
in you the body's golden covenant. 
And the spirit is intimate of your hand, 
intimate of your breast and lips. 
I woo that carnal sacrament of you, 
the lover's testament of faith 
in which in body we release 
the spirit's immortality. 

Come unto me, questioning dark spirit. 
You dwell upon the threshold of my mind. 
This yearning is a vast eternity 
that waste about us questioning lies, 
and we, in the limbo of disembodied love, 
stare upon the bodies we deny. 

I am a most fleshly fire. 
I would embrace you in that flame, 
and we should lie brought then to rest 
and gaze, gaze upon each other in that hour 
when newly created each in the other 
we hang like smoky music in the air.