send us a star's corner, come on

send us a star's corner, come on:
something the thinkers can ride,
a rock that rivets the blanket
out in the great big and wide

as long as they're talking, there's reason;
when they're silenced, when the paper has dried,

then we're stoppable, spacewardly floating,
and why--? When
there isn't a question among 'em
that a fold in the night sky can hide.

There is a breaking point,

There is a breaking point,
at which things come
a
part.

Never full, not quite as high
and less than richly based;
we've been
effaced.

All things graffiti'd may be covered by
white fix
or they may be given prominence--
in the park, their own intentional place.

Nother put it back

Played to fool
distress in tresses
hopped on all that jumps and ties it on

Surely there's a Nother
left in the backlot scene
who can put all this back and be gone.

Nother, put it back and be gone.

If this just isn't it,

This just isn't it;
I'm ready for change.
And like that, I made up my mind.

I followed my ribs
to where I could BE
didn't know what I would find

but I wanted--
I really wanted.

and I know there's a reason for will.

As it goes, what you want,
if you say it enough,
it will come to you. Patience,
still.

Now what comes of this
but perhaps a surprise
pleasant or part of a low,

And it all could be yours
If you open your eyes
and give in to the almighty flow.

I have a pineapple

I have a pineapple, but not a knife big enough to cut it.
A crush, that need only be so crushing,
a love of the city at night.

People should be explicit,
but then we would all just know.

And maybe knowing would be fine,
but surely it is not fun.

Sometimes I want to write all over the wall.

Stubby pencil

Idle eyes
petal'd pout
wonder what
I think about

Thing is
that you'll only know
if you're blunt and ask.

Incidentally,

When a man outside the Greek diner asked for my doggy bag, I handed it over. He took it, and asked for my friend's box as well.

I bicycled through town this afternoon, along the residential streets near the lake. On one block, at one brick house on the corner, trikes and balls and a pogo stick lay strewn on a green lawn, while a mom took stock of three scattered, smiling kids, playing. Then, on the other side and two houses down, a line of four people streamed in file from the front door. Two of them bore a stretcher that held a figure covered in a dark blue cloth. The person behind them walked mindfully, and pursed her lips when she caught my eyes watching the scene.

Through the window of a hot dog joint, I saw a woman outside and across the street hit the sidewalk, palms first. She seemed to have tripped, and several seconds kept her attached to the walk before anyone approached her.
By now, my eyes had shifted focus from my two friends just across the table from me, and my voice had faltered; they heard me pause the telling of my animated story, and they followed my eyes, turning their heads to look through the window behind them. After more seconds, my anxiety had grown, but the woman pushed herself up, inelegantly, with the help of a female passerby. A crowd had finally gathered, 10 strong and suddenly, to make sure she was all right.

I read recently that in bigger crowds, individuals are less likely to help a person in need because each individual assumes someone else will help.