Foreskin, maidenhead, eardrum, eyelid and gibing tongue: the soul shakes out its tawny sails, slipping out of the rushes and deep bay, and tacks against a prevailing wind that blows germs through the nursery, fog onto the freeway, and pollen among the bleached ribs of the dead.
We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.