After the president's full dress press conference
this afternoon, one might feel that poetry reading
is somewhat anticlimactic.
Nevertheless, I would like to read a variety of poems
from a number of books published in the last few years.
We here are probably all disciples, at least
in some sense, of that word.
And the first poem that I'd like to read perhaps
sets the stage for many of those to follow.
And it is, curiously enough, entitled "Disciples".
Can you hear me all right in the back rows?
Yes.
Thank you.
"Disciples".
"Downstairs in the dark, the meat of the halved avocado
waits for you within folded hands.
The moon rises, a yellow bean above the rusted trees.
A wolf looks through our rooms.
All by itself at midnight, the silverware in the drawer
rattles.
Proclaiming a false dawn, the telephone rings.
Do not fear.
We don't believe these things."