I am not interested in my body- the part that stinks & rots & brings forth life, the part that the ground swallows, d**h giving birth to d**h- all of life, considered from the body's point of view, is a downhill slide & all our small preservatives & griefs cannot reverse the trend. All sensualists turn puritan at the end- turning up lust's soil & finding bones beneath the rich volcanic dirt. Some sleep in shrouds & some in coffins; some swear off procreation, others turn vegetarian, or worse: they live on air- on sheer platonic meals of pure ideas; once gluttons of the flesh, they now become gourmets of the mind. How to resist that when the spacious earth swallows her children so insatiably, when all our space-age gods are grounded, & only the moan of pleasure or the rasp of pain can ever satisfy the body's appetite? & yet my body, in its dubious wisdom, led to yours; & you may puzzle out this mystery in your turn. Choose mind, choose body, choose to wed the two; many have tried but few have done the deed. Through you, perhaps, I may at last succeed.