Anselm Kiefer, “The Renowned Orders of the Night”
“The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.
It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:
into that rushing beast of the night,
sucked up by that great dragon, to split
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry”
symbolreader 
Reblogged this on lampmagician and commented:
“The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.
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What a beautiful poem and great writer, I also like the painting very much. It’s amazing how some artists got so absorbed by their surroundings. Van Gogh had his Starry Night and Field of Crows, Munch had his female vampires, and Plath her dominant father…It is as if when they met their demons, it was time to leave the physical realms of earth, and sometimes for real.
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“Surroundings” is not the word I meant to say. Some artists seem to have fiercer “attractions”, call them what you may, and they become the greatest works of art.
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I agree and I understood what you mean already from your first comment. Ah, those obsessions that breed art. I’m happy you liked the poem.
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Not familiar with this poem or poet, but I liked it 🙂
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A beautiful poet. I relate to her poetry infinitely more than to Sylvia Plath’s.
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