WEBVTT

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I was asked to--

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I was commissioned to
write a poem unaccountably

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on a locksmith shop.

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So I thought about
that for a while

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about the nature
of locks and keys

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and there seemed
to be a connection.

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This occult machinery.

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This hidden engine
for opening doors.

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A connection to what one does
when one tries to write poetry.

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The way-- there is that
kind of meshing of gears.

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And then I began to think about
other things far more carnal.

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So it's in fact, this
is a poem about nothing

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to do with locks and keys.

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[LAUGHTER]

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But it retains a
connection of the title,

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"Wedding The
Locksmith's Daughter."

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[LAUGHTER]

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"The slow-grained slide
to embed the blade of key

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is a sheathing, a
gliding on graphite,

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pushing inside to find
the ribs of the lock.

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Sunk home, the true key
slots to its matrix.

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Geared, tight fitting,
they turn together,

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shooting the spring lock,
throwing the bolt. Dactyls,

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iambics, the clinch of
words, the hidden couplings

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in the cased machine.

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A chime of sound on sound.

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The way the sung note
snibs on meaning and holds.

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The lines engage and marry now.

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Their bells are keeping time.

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The church doors close
and open underground."

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