Last one I want to read you this evening.
And following this, I'm perfectly
happy to answer questions.
Or if there's any particular poem in mind
you happen to be familiar with and you want me to read,
I'll do it.
We can talk, those of you who want, for a while.
This is called "Song of Expectancy."
It'll be out in a Unicorn Broadside pretty soon.
"The Song of Expectancy.
I wait for her who restores my fingertips.
I wait for the moons which will grow on my nails.
I wait for the night with its intricate gloves.
I wait for the skeleton keys.
I wait for the immigrants in glass boats, or the rivers
with their green hair, the synagogues
which lie just under water, and the jeweled eyes
in the willow tree.
I wait for the ravens to settle on fence rails
with wings like Finnish wimples.
I wait for the pine trees to explode the stars,
and for the clouds with their little windows of rain.
I wait for the sheriffs who always arrive
with tomorrow manacled between.
I wish for the bandits and their crucified children who
wear roses of gauze on their masks,
for the rag men who gather our hearts on spikes,
the centurions pissing in cemeteries,
the cowboys driving cadavers before them,
and their yelping mutts whose fur is afire.
I wait at last for ignorance and its subpoena,
for silence with its headless drum
and queues full of empty hats, for sleep
which pours in foam from the ribs,
and for the dark sad waters where legends swim backward
like squid."
[APPLAUSE]