We have some time for questions, and if you can,
speak into the mic or just speak really loud.
People are left speechless I can see that.
Do you write your poems longhand?
Uh-oh, one of those kind of questions.
A variety of modes.
I grew up before the age of computers,
and so I have learned to begin with handwriting
and then going back and forth between one desk and another.
But listen, if anybody has a question, that's
too personal to ask to a group, come right up after,
and you could ask me directly.
Oh, OK.
I like how the poems that you read tonight focus
on the lives of other people as opposed
to say focusing exclusively on your life.
And I'm curious to know has the way you approach writing
about other people or how you choose
other people as a subject--
has that-- do you think that's changed throughout your work?
Has that always been a concern for you?
Has it grown over time?
Has it shifted?
I like to believe it's grown over time,
but I think it's always been there.
I think it has to do with my feeling that I cannot write
a poem of inner turmoil.
I mean, I occasionally do, but mainly I don't.
And I don't think anybody's individual life
is rich enough or interesting enough,
if it's like mine, to provide all the material that
engages you.
So I think-- and I admire fiction
for including the world so directly,
and I try to get that sense in my own work.
That extra room, in this case, of the title of this manuscript
is making room in part.
One of the means is making part for people
who are very different from me, and I hope as I've aged,
I become more tolerant a variety than I
was when I was a Young Turk and thought I knew everything.
I have another question, actually.
OK.
Your poems also-- you're very peaceful.
Like I had a really nice feeling of peacefulness
throughout your reading, and I was curious if that is just
happens, because this is what you're writing about,
this is how you're writing, or if it's an effect
that you try to achieve.
You say that I would like to write poetry that leaves people
with a peaceful feeling.
It's not the second certainly, and I
get worried when you say that.
[LAUGHTER]
Not that peaceful.
[LAUGHTER]
Just peaceful enough.
We want-- I mean, you like to believe
that the poet is open to the troubles of the world.
And if a poet is open to troubles to the world--
if the poet is peaceful, it's not open wide enough.
And so it's funny, because I think these poems are
full of raw feeling.
Other people say, oh, it's so tranquil.
So maybe there's a kind of a dialogue between that.
I certainly don't try to write poems
that I think are going to be pleasing,
but I don't think I'm happy with the poem
until I've found a way through the material.
And it doesn't mean that things are neatly closed off,
but it means that I've come to some position of acceptance
or accommodation some of the time.
I didn't read any of my angry poems tonight.
[LAUGHTER]
Mr. Dennis?
Yes.
That poem about the hotel, is that based on a real hotel?
No, no it wasn't.
It seemed very real.
Well, good.
No, I was just thinking about walking past a hotel.
Clearly it wasn't the first rank and how one could defend it.
Will be the best defense you could give a hotel like that.
This is what I came up with.
I have a question over here.
Oh.
I have a question about--
I really like the title of your new book and the theme of it,
and it's something I feel like I think about all the time.
I wonder if you would just talk a bit about if you just
came to the title after writing some poems
or if this was something that you had been thinking about
that you wanted to write about.
I had many other titles that fell by the wayside.
I thought this was the title that you could--
all the poems seem to fit in the rubric,
because it was so broad.
And it suggested something of what
I was trying to do in terms of accommodation.
I think-- look, there are a couple
of different types of poets in the world.
Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman are
two great American masters--
our 19th century mother and father who hover over us.
You can never entitle a book of Emily Dickinson Extra Room,
because she's an a moral aristocrat,
and she works by fine gradations and distinctions
and subtle demarcations.
And anything so gross in general as Extra Room--
But Whitman would love that title, wouldn't he?
Extra Room, yeah.
Whitman is-- there's nothing outside of Whitman's prospect.
So it's not a title for every mood and every occasion,
but I'm glad it resonates with you.
Well, that's a good question to end on now.
Really, I'll be here for a while,
and anybody who wants to come up and talk is welcome to.
Thank you so much Carl.
Thank you all--
[APPLAUSE]