“ You, my friend, could be the smoke’s daughter,you who may not have known you were born of fire and rage,lightning over flaming lava etched your violet mouth,your sex in the scorched oak’s moss like a… Pablo Neruda
“ Settle your perfect hips here and the bow of wet arrowsloosens into the night the petals that form your formlet your clay limbs climb the silence and its pale ladderrung by rung taking off with me in… Pablo Neruda
