Gee, thanks.
I'll do what I can.
It's wonderful to be here, everyone in their woolies
coming from New York where it's almost the same temperature.
Of course, I ran out this morning to look at the sun.
We don't have the sun in New York.
Oops, I'm going to have too many books up here.
Anyway it's great to be here.
And thank you, Jim and the Poetry Center,
for the privilege of reading here.
I thought I would begin with poetry, since poetry
is what joins us and brought the Center and myself into being.
In a confounding-- the usual procedure,
I thought I'd read you my most recent work
rather than leave it to the end when you're dozing off
and not interested.
This is from a manuscript called Treason, and it's the epigraph.
It's from the 14th century custom
of putting a mask on a condemned person with the face of Jesus
on it.
And then all of the people who've
come to watch the execution follow in a kind of parade,
a passion play up to the point where the person is executed.
As you can see, it could have lots
of great psychological effects.
It's called Play.
"You are not you.
You are the someone on this mask.
And we are your followers, we who
applaud when you don't cry out or tear it off,
when the noose or the knife comes at last.
And our sins rise with your soul that
is better than a beggar's stealing butter."