When I was reading this, there was
kind of a tantalizing thought that
came to me, that hadn't ever surfaced
in the presence of this before.
And that is, maybe the way we feel
depends on the little elements, ingredients of experience
rather than on the big things that we ordinarily identify.
So that an elegy, I have thought of this before,
but not in connection with this.
An elegy would have power over us,
not because it's about a death, but because all
the little figures and things that you
say in it are little deaths.
And if a big death were associated with other things,
it wouldn't even be sad.
So that what the poem says at you
and you say, oh, well, those are figures of speech
for the big thing that it's about, what it's telling you
is exactly what it's about.
And the big event gets its emotional tonality
from all those little things.
I don't think I've said this right,
but well, I want to read something
that has a connection with part of my career,
not touched upon in the introduction.
There were honorific things said, but in my past,
I taught in California.
With this confession, I read my poem, "The Star in the Hills."
A star hitting the hills behind our house,
up where the grass turned brown, touching the sky.
Meteors have hit the world before,
but this was near, and since TV.
Few saw, but many felt the shock.
The State of California owns that land.
And out from shore, three miles.
And any stars that come, will be roped off
and viewed on weekdays 8 to 5.
A guard who took the oath of loyalty
and denied any police record told me this.
If you don't have a police record yet,
you could take the oath and get a job if California
should be hit by another star.
I'd promise to be loyal to California,
and to guard any stars that hit it, I said.
Or any place three miles out from shore.
Unless the star was bigger than the state, in which case,
I'd be loyal to it.
[LAUGHTER]
But he said, no exceptions were allowed.
And he leaned against that state owned meteor, so calm,
puffed a cork tipped cigarette.
That I looked down and traced with my foot in the dust,
and thought again and said, OK, any star.
[APPLAUSE]
Thank you.