O dear sweet rosy 
unattainable desire 
...how sad, no way 
to change the mad 
cultivated asphodel, the 
visible reality... 

and skin's appalling 
petals--how inspired 
to be so Iying in the living 
room drunk naked 
and dreaming, in the absence 
of electricity... 
over and over eating the low root 
of the asphodel, 
gray fate... 

rolling in generation 
on the flowery couch 
as on a bank in Arden-- 
my only rose tonite's the treat 
of my own nudity.