Heat (by H.D.)

H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) in the 1910s
Heat
[from The Second Book of Modern Verse, 1919]
O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.
Fruit cannot drop
through this thick air—
fruit cannot fall into heat
that presses up and blunts
the points of pears
and rounds the grapes.
Cut the heat—
plough through it,
turning it on either side
of your path.
To see an index of other H.D. works in the Crisis Chronicles Online Library, click:
http://library.crisischronicles.com/categories/Doolittle%20(Hilda).aspx
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'Twas not heat but sun that undid me today, JC-- I'm sunburned to a crispy critter right now, from a day at Hartville. Another great posting- I never had any knowledge or appreciation of H.D. before your Library; now, I love reading her poems. Thank you!
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Thank you! But why are you commenting when you should be having James slather you with aloe?
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My skin is such that it doesn't retain the effects of sunburn for very long... this morning, it has faded to a nice soft pink. :-)
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Lucky you!
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