Look into the glimmering black.
Do you see them? The pretenders?
THE ANTIPLANETS
I stare up in watchful supplanted wonder
At the cross-grain non-stars riding
Among the true inheritors,
Unable to shake my gaze.
They cannot but make themselves known
For there are so many of them,
These hurried wanderers.
Even where I feel disgust with their make
So too do I feel awe at their light.
I watch; how could I not?