Groping among the stars—stubbing themselves against the bloated clouds—
Tapping desperately for a sure foothold
In the fluctuating mists.
Calm-eyed and inaccessible.
The stars peer through the blue fissures of the sky,
Unperturbed among the panic of scurrying beams;
Twinkling with a cold, acrid merriment.
GHETTO TWILIGHT
An infinite weariness comes into the faces of the old tenements,
As they stand massed together on the block,