Conrad smiles broadly as Elizabeth's lips purse to blow the hot coffee.<br/><br/>"Okay: I will read to you: but you make a fine muse Elizabeth."<br/><br/>His hand glides over the bookshelves, pulling out a slim pale blue Faber and Faber volume.  He perches on the end of the desk, opens the book.<br/><br/>"A bit of heresy: some twentieth century American Poetry...<br/><br/><br/>i like my body when it is with your<br/>body. It is so quite a new thing.<br/>Muscles better and nerves more.<br/>i like your body. i like what it does,<br/>i like its hows. i like to feel the spine<br/>of your body and its bones, and the trembling<br/>-firm-smooth ness and which i will<br/>again and again and again<br/>kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,<br/>i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz<br/>of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes<br/>over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,<br/><br/>and possibly i like the thrill<br/><br/>of under me you quite so new<br/>...<br/><br/>You like Cummings? I appreciate the visceral nature of his work... much like Donne... true to the flesh"