I'm going to read a couple of new poems.
I'm working on, um, some poems and I
guess I'm trying to imagine how much of, um, lyric subjectivity
you can strip away so it's like Jenga.
You know, you're pulling all these pieces out.
So, um, that's what this-- this book is about.
This one is called "I'm Ill."
"I'm ill, I'm federal, I'm on leave.
I'm a child of refuge.
I'm holy, I'm a shit.
I'm desperate.
I won't tell you anything.
I'm first Gen. I'm Gen X. I'm tied up.
I'm bipolar.
I'm barely fertile.
I'm a secret.
I'm the now.
I'm indifferent.
I'm a disgrace.
I'm funny.
I'm assistance.
I'm not saved.
I was Mormon.
I'm atheist.
I'm mysterious.
I'm scared.
I'm head of household.
I'm quick tempered.
On day job.
I'm night ghost.
I'm failure.
I act white.
I live bankrolled.
Undeliverable.
I'm not gang.
I'm crazy ex.
I'm slippery.
I'm post, post, post.
I'm greedy.
I'm double crossing.
I'm delusional.
I'm an average BMI.
I'm hairy.
I'm indebted.
I'm weak.
I'm non-confrontational.
I'm in therapy.
I'm sorry.
I'm empowered.
I don't have a tattoo.
I don't have money.
I don't have friends.
I'm agoraphobic.
I'm a versifier I don't have a valid passport.
I've never been arrested.
I should have been arrested.
I know too much.
I can barely read at times.
I can barely rise at times.
I'm "queerish".
I'm marginally fit.
I'm arthritic.
I'm flaky.
I have few skills.
I'm salty.
I'm a time bomb.
I'm baptized.
I'm dry.
I'm in chronic pain.
I'm big at mom's house.
I can't remember how many.
I am obstructionist.
I'm a master.
That was my confessional, thank you very much.
[APPLAUSE]