Thanks very much, Jim.
I know you're out there somewhere,
but I don't see anybody.
I'm going to be reading mainly a new work, just
a couple of poems from my most recent book,
and then mainly from a new manuscript.
And first, I'll read a poem of advice called "The Great Day."
"What if the great day never comes,
and your life doesn't shine with vivid blossoms,
just with the usual pale variety.
What if the best China never seems
called for, those dishes reserved for the friends
you love the most on the day they
return from their endless travels.
To use them now for the only occasions available
would be to confuse the high realm with love.
But not to use them doesn't that seem wrong, too?
To leave the best wine undrunk in the cellar
for the next owner of your house to open?
What then?
Can you will yourself to see a common day the way
a saint might see it, as a gift from heaven?
Or the way it appears from the window
of the hospital on the first morning
the patient feels strong enough to edge across the room
and look out.
There on the street an angel policeman
is directing the flashing mosaic of traffic.
Or can you see the day as the dead might see it,
not the ones who'd rather rest, but those
delighted to abandon the gardens of hell, however fragrant,
for a chance at crossing the sea again in a storm?
The day their ship, long given up for lost,
steams into the harbor while flags flying,
would be a day to be toasted with rose
champagne and heirloom glasses.
Down the gangway they come, a little thinner,
a little unsteady, eyes wide in wonder
at their rare good fortune.
Can you see what they see as they look around
or feel what their friends waiting on the dock
must feel as they run forward?
Let me look at you, they keep saying, suspending
their formal speech in welcome.
You look good.
You look wonderful."