H.D. and her Imagist pals were all about getting more for less. Their poems are short, concise, and effective, and the best ones create really visceral images whose power often seems disproportionate to their size. For the Imagists, good things come in little (word) boxes. Not surprisingly, then, language itself is often a theme in Imagist poems. In "Heat," we can't help but think about the power (or even the powerlessness) of language, as the whole poem is an apostrophe—an address spoken to an absent other (in this case, the wind). How effective can language be, the poem asks? Can our words change the world? Does the wind—does anyone, really—hear us when we speak? Hello?
"Heat" is about the pointlessness of language. Words are never gonna change the weather.
"Heat" is about the power of language. H.D.'s images are so strong that we can feel the wind ploughing through the heat. Whoosh!