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.