A little while ago, I was walking around the Garment
District in New York, and in one of the stores
there was this piece of cardboard.
And on the cardboard was all these individual zippers.
And it was one of the most beautiful things
I had ever seen.
There was probably 50 different kinds of zippers.
And it was like a Hopkins poem, I
mean that kind of specificity.
It was like looking at, you know, looking
at surgical instruments.
It was like looking at individual fireworks.
It was just incredibly beautiful.
You know, I walked to the store, and asked them
if I could buy it.
And they said, no.
And I said, OK, well could buy 50 different zippers?
They said, no.
You can buy a thousand of any one zipper.
So it was something that I couldn't have.
But anyway, I was thinking--
[LAUGHTER]
Which may, of course, have made it more beautiful.
I was thinking about that sort of specificity, and in relation
to the zipper's relationship to the line.
This is one of the-- it's a very un-enlightening introduction
to the poem.
It doesn't make a lot of sense.
So I tried to write a poem in which line
had a kind of specific end style completion to it,
but nonetheless there was something that
was holding the poem together.
And that's true of every poem anybody ever writes.
It's unhelpfully named after a Duchamp assisted readymade
called "With Hidden Noise," which is
a ball of twine and two metal--
metal pieces holding it together,
and something is put inside the ball of twine
by a friend of his.
Duchamp never knew what it was.
The idea is that you can hear it,
but you don't know what it is
"I am a teapot and this is my song.
I am award winning and this is my song.
What genius decided we needed fire engine now?
I'm a post-industrial bunny and this-- look, big ears,
this is my song, and no one needs your rabbity bull
around here.
I am an exchequer and this is my retinue.
No one knows precisely what I do.
Where to put the excess of speaking voice?
But Professor, there's too much nitrogen
up there for any known life-form to survive!
I am the breasts of a starlet and this is my lab coat.
Did you say lifeboat?
Watch out for the nails coming out the other side.
I am a liminal state and this is my program.
Misbegotten pang, open your oh.
Did you say sleeping voice?
We can no more invent ourselves than the ticks of a clock
can invent the clock.
Are you sure this is the way to go?
I am Walt Whitman but so?
Everyone's Walt Whitman.
Clouds of unlimited portent.
Insert anecdote here.
The idea is to get the heart-rate up and sustain it.
'What happened?' Shouts the hero rushing into the study room.
'Muyng magph naagh', replies the heroine, still in her gag.
insert flap A into slot A. X-rays inconclusive.
One to hear me count to 1,000 by 17s?
Beep hexagonal, my puppeteer.
I hate your dog.
I am a two CD set of the world's greatest arias.
No wonder no one gets nothing done.
Clearly we need a new filing system.
After a while it all sounds the same.
Saaaaaaammmmme.
Enter Fortinbras.
I am your waiter and this is your orchard.
This can't be what I ordered.
Next question.
Now try it on your own at home."