…I hate my epidermal dress,
The savage blood's obscenity,
The rags of my anatomy,
And willingly would I dispense
With false accouterments of sense,
To sleep immodestly, a most
Incarnadine and carnal ghost.
— the last lines of "Epidermal Macabre," Theodore Roethke's lament for having "“fleshy clothes"; Roethke died on this day in 1963 --
I am having a great time, on hiatus.
Hope that you too, are having a great Monday!