I'm going to read--
I think I want to read a few poems.
I wrote a book of poems and I like.
Now, I'm kind of anxious.
I want to, it seems exotic to write poems.
I'd like to write some poems again if I can.
I probably forgot how, but I hope.
But anyway.
This is called "I Dreamed I Met William Burroughs."
And I was thinking one mor--
I'd been up for a long time, and my wife had just gotten up.
And she goes, what are you doing?
I'm sitting in the chair, and I was
thinking of just lines at random and singing them
in William Burroughs voice.
And if you've heard any recordings of him,
he had a distinctive way of speaking.
And I was half asleep, and I really could do it.
It was like you could--
like, I can't do it now.
But--
Yes you can.
I couldn't.
And I could do it.
And I was laughing.
And she-- Beth said, would you like me
to call an ambulance now Franz?
And I said, no.
I'm having a really good time.
And, I don't know, it cheered me up.
Somebody wrote to me and said--
no, somebody asked me, you know, in an interview or something,
she goes, well, did you just like sort of describe
the dream as it happened?
And I went, I didn't dream that, I made it up.
It's like, I didn't have that dream.
I made it up.
It's like, what was that Creeley--
Is that a real poem, or did you just make it up?
Robert Creeley said.
I didn't dream it.
It's just-- it's fictional, you know?
Like, why can't poets do that?
Like if somebody writes a novel, you don't go, wow,
did that really happen to him?
No.
"I Dreamed I Met William Burroughs."
"I met William Burroughs in a dream.
It was some sort of Bohemian farmhouse,
and he was enthroned, small, and skeletal in a truly
gigantic red armchair.
When I asked him how he was, he replied,
well, you know what they say, for best results, always mock
and frighten lobster before boiling."
Franz, I like that name, Franz.
Child Franz to the dark tower or something or other.
Hey, got a smoke?
And quit worrying so much.
They can't help themselves.
They're like abused dogs, and they're
going to react to affection and kindness
with uncontrollable savagery.
Just tell them, you're out of my mind, pal.
You're out of my mind.
Either that or I'm out of yours.
That'll keep them brain-chained to their trees."
It made me [INAUDIBLE].
This one is called "Leave Me Hidden."
"I was having trouble deciding which to watch--
Night of the Living Bloggers or Attack of the Neck Brace
People.
At the end, I just went for a walk.
In the woods, I stopped wondering
why of all trees this one?
My hand pressed to fissures and ridges of bark's hugely
magnified fingerprint, forehead resting against it.
Finally feeling distinctly a heartbeat-- fast, silently,
booming there deep in my hidden leaves.
Blessed mother world-- personal underworld.
Thank you.
Thank you."