It's afternoon - better, noon - the hottest part of the day. Sweat Heat. The height of the affair. From now on it's downhill until evening and the parting.
Something like this:
At noon the throbbing sun has reached his height
And spreads itself across the rumpled earth
Thrusting aside the clouds with shafts of light
And blazing forward into dark sluggish death.
It will improve. It will improve.
Today I showed some of my preparatory thoughts to a friend - I use the word in a spirit of generosity. He compared the fuit of my labours to those parts of the male anatomy which are two of the most precious and moreover the very spring of life itself. What could I do but express doubts about his parentage, and secretly agree.
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