The sun blazes in silence for there is no one to speak to like the sun. The men sit under it, bored, filled with inferiorities and resentments which they turn toward the blue onyx of the sky, sending up planes in defiance, whipping the air, but nothing is said, for the sun leaves behind its own contempt: darkness and cold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH PENETRANT by CONRAD AIKEN CONTRA MORTEM: THE LEAVES by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE WOMAN'S GENITALS by HAYDEN CARRUTH KEEPING UP WITH THE SIGNS by MADELINE DEFREES |