Aren't there bigger things to talk about <br /> Than a window in Greenwich Village <br /> And hyacinths sprouting <br /> Like little puce poems out of a sick soul? <br /> Some cosmic hearsay— <br /> As to whom—it can't be Mars! put the moon—that way…. <br /> Or what winds do to canyons <br /> Under the tall stars… <br /> Or even <br /> How that old roué, Neptune, <br /> Cranes over his bald-head moons <br /> At the twinkling heel of a sky-scraper.<br /><br />Lola Ridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/scandal-3/
