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I Dreamt the Negro, Beautiful as Night
| DREAMT THE NEGRO, BEAUTIFUL AS NIGHT I dreamt the Negro, beautiful as night, walked sewer-deep and city-tall, polite but softly terrible; the jagged stars shone in his eyes and teeth; his cheeks and chin were cherry black, his breath was smoke, his grin was ringed in bonfire red. And jails, by bars, fell down in cool quick fires of his hands; the winds like languages of crumbling lands went silent at his feet. The air hung spiced around him-honied, cinnamoned-it shone, it whirred. His silver laughter razor-sliced its skies. A halo of the sun was his, like molten gold, or what enthronement is, with darkness on the beauty of its own....