so be it , we expect no more from this uplifted face of earth , turning slow , spinning into day from her far night journey across the million million souls that crawl and cry beneath this temporary light dark world , like me ; like me , stirring , rising , mammoth effort to all my limbs , breaking the surface of my visions into sharp , breath-catching morning bedroom , bedclothes draped in roman style over hot , sticky flesh , cooling and steaming velvet horse flesh in the stable yard , an inturned thigh , crooked ankle in ugly horsewoman pose , farting horses and ducks and buses on country lanes , prance and fart above the sleek mythological loins of the horse you call 'egmont rouge ' , khaki jodhpurs , blue jeans like a slough , and i , emperor of rome , satiated by nymphs of sleep prepare to don the performance again , to the crowd who jostle and grin and call to me in rough intelligible voices , surging forward to pick up the lifeless jeans ; like so .