but I spend all my days dream-widened by
the center-meridian at the equator,
jungled warm in the lush verdancy.
my every thought and act
floods with fervent intensity;
compassion sunburns my inner skin.
No arctic cold hardens this human clay,
no iceberg of a harsh snowy brow,
neither frozen north or south within.
At the wide equator,
I weep shards of scalding pain.
The endless sweat of warm mercy wellsprings
in this tropical brain;
morally real earnest,
My temperament’s compass directs
me sweltering true east toward the Light.
-Dan Wilcox
1st pub. in The Camel Saloon
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