[APPLAUSE]
This is stubborn.
[LAUGHTER]
I'll read one more poem.
[LAUGHTER]
A tiny--
[APPLAUSE]
Oh, yeah.
Let me read a love poem.
I've been writing erotic poetry, not really erotic.
That was that I'll tell that joke
and it just came out off the top of my head.
For me, this is erotic poetry.
For you, it's nothing.
[LAUGHTER]
As I said to the people at Pima the other day,
I'm very Victorian.
I was born before people found out how to fuck.
[LAUGHTER]
That's not true.
Let me read my version of an erotic poem.
Oh god, I'm not going to entertain.
OK, you horny thing.
[LAUGHTER]
You're so horny.
[LAUGHTER]
It's called "You," and I don't mean "you."
[LAUGHTER]
For no reason, the darkness lifted,
and we lay on a bed of light that a moment before
had been dark leaf.
These were the high woods where I had been afraid.
But now that fear was gone, and you
who spoke my name over and over stared into the black sky
above, which filled your eyes with tiny points of fire.
I could have thought, this too will pass.
And once again, you will be a particular person and not
the lost half of myself, the search for whom I've
long ago given up.
And I will be a man who gave up.
I didn't.
I didn't think of anything.
Instead, I closed my eyes to everything
so that I might see at last how Heaven and Earth can,
on any ordinary night, become a familiar place.
My cheek against your cheek, I still feel your warm tears,
and hear the wind singing through the crowded pines
and the twisted mountain oak, singing
the only song they know, the words I feel with each breath
I take.
Thanks a lot.
[APPLAUSE]
[CHATTER]