My head a moonOf Japanese paper, my gold beaten skinInfinitely delicate and infinitely expensive. Does not my heat astound you. And my light.All by myself I am a huge camelliaGlowing and coming and going, flush on flush. I think I am going up,I think I may rise ---The beads of hot metal fly, and I, love, I Am a pure acetyleneVirginAttended by roses, By kisses, by cherubim,By whatever these pink things mean.Not you, nor him. Not him, nor him(My selves dissolving, old whore petticoats) ---To Paradise.