Day abandons it Night disowns it

a poet picks it up threads it into a poem; but sometimes it is barren, so impotent it gives nothing, not even to the poet.

I went to a party to breathe poetry And came back carrying silence. A few shreds of air that a ceiling fan, Guillotined from a Georgia fall night.

I must have sleepwalked into the avenues, Seeking that rhyme, that unsolved riddle, That key to tighten the bodice of silence, With the silent pull of poems.

I handed Beth, who said she was a poet, A swimming pool of wine and got silence. My turtle tongue retreated, unable to ask her For a poem, into its carapace of language.

It is English as it can be only written in English, Yet between thought and sound, my voice Jammed, an obstinate Indian mule, unable To reach the honking geese, except in silence,

This air into which I exhale and inhale poetry.

Dancin' where the stars go blue Dancin' where the evening fell Dancin' in your wooden shoes In a wedding gown

Dancin' out on 7th street Dancin' through the underground Dancin' little marionette Are you happy now?

Where do you go when you're lonely Where do you go when you're blue Where do you go when you're lonely I'll follow you When the stars go blue

Laughing with your pretty mouth Laughing with your broken eyes Laughing with your lover's tongue In a lullaby

Where do you go when you're lonely Where do you go when you're blue Where do you go when you're lonely I'll follow you When the stars go blue The stars go blue, stars go blue

what a fine song smith is RA!