This poem is called "What I Did With The Rock."
I wrote this at oh, San Juan Island off Seattle.
"I was alone on the beach when I picked up a rock.
I gave it a name.
And then, I stood at the water with a rock in my hand.
I gave it your name.
It felt right, warm and cold at the same time.
But I threw it as far as I could and never saw it splash.
What have I done, I asked.
I stood there waiting for the rock to wash up.
About 14,000 days later, I died."
Thank you very much.
[APPLAUSE]