I'm going to read a number of poems
from feeld, which is forthcoming next year, September.
You know, I'll just read them.
They're numbered.
I'll read the number, but I'm not reading all of them.
So--
"I."
Thees wite skirtes and orang sweters I wont inn
the feedynge marte wile mye vegetable partes bloome
inn the commen waye.
A grackel inn the guarden rooste, the tall wymon
wasching handes or eyeing turnups,
the sadened powres wee rub so economicalie.
Inn 1 virsion off thynges, alarum is mye nayme.
Unkempt and handeld, I am hors, I am sadeld.
I am a brokn hors.