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- Contents Category: Poem
- Custom Article Title: 'Inverting Hölderlin’s "Geh unter, schöne Sonne"' by John Kinsella
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I’d ask you to reappear from behind the wet blanket, Sun,
But the ozone has been eaten by refrigerants
And we can’t take your glare. We are people
Of the skin cancers, tuned by solar flares ...
I have a burnt spot on my macula, a legacy, a result, a consequence:
Love of gazing into the brightest light, the solar acetylene,
The fiery magnesium ribbon, the deceptions of eclipse.
On this dark, wintry day I won’t ask
That you slough off the cloud, pierce the dark-hearted vapour.
Nature is outside eyesight and latent growth below the surface
Still wrestles with absolute darkness. What blessing
Is bestowed by residues of warmth alone?
John Kinsella
John Kinsella’s recent works include the three-volume Graphology Poems 1995–2015 (2016).
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