Heat

Hilda Doolittle

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.

Next 10 Poems

• Hilda Doolittle : Helen
• Hilda Doolittle : Helen In Egypt
• Hilda Doolittle : Leda
• Hilda Doolittle : Let Zeus
• Hilda Doolittle : Mid-day
• Hilda Doolittle : Mysteries Remain
• Hilda Doolittle : Never More Will The Wind
• Hilda Doolittle : Orchard
• Hilda Doolittle : Oread
• Hilda Doolittle : Pear Tree

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• Hilda Doolittle : Garden
• Hilda Doolittle : Fragment Sixty-eight
• Hilda Doolittle : Eurydice
• Hilda Doolittle : Cities
• Hilda Doolittle : Cassandra
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