Because your eyes are flaming, and must burn,
Your body fire that kills, your beauty death,
I love, worshipping that which I desire.
Icarus knew no more: I breathe thy breath,
And touch thy hair;—if I to dust return
At least I shall be cinders, you still fire.
MAXWELL E. FOSTER.
Dagonet
You come to me for guidance? That’s a queer