A White Bird Is The Big Sky. Under It A Cowering City Stares. The Houses Are Half-Dead Old People. A Gaunt Carriage-Horse Gapes Grumpily. Winds, Skinny Dogs, Run Weakly. Their Skins Squeel On Sharp Corners. In A Street A Crazed Man Groans: You, Oh, You - If Only I Could Find You... A Crowd Around Him Is Surprised And Grins Derisively. Three Little People Play Blind Man'S Bluff - A Gentle Tear-Stained God Lays The Grey Powdery Hands Of Afternoon Over Everything.