Thank you so much for having me, Tucson.
I'm so happy to be here with you all and so grateful.
Thank you, Farid.
As a huge admirer, that was a tremendous gift.
I'm reading from Look, which, yes,
deals with the US Department of Defense's dictionary.
And I tend to just read, so I hope you'll go along with me.
Maybe I'll read a few poems from a longer series
that I wrote called "Reaching Guantanamo" that's
based on a New York Times article I
read about a Guantanamo detainee named Salim Hamdan.
And in the article, it said that after listing the 22
hours of solitary confinement, and the not seeing
his child that had been born, and all
the stuff over the years, there's
just an aside that said, mail is late and often censored.
So I wrote a series of imagined letters to him.
"Reaching Guantanamo"-- "Dear Salim, love, are you well?
Do they-- you?
I worry so much.
Lately, my hair, even my skin.
The doctors tell me it's--.
I believe them.
It shouldn't.
Please don't worry.
In the yard, and moths have gotten to your mother's--.
Remember?
I've enclosed some.
Made this batch just for you.
Please eat well.
Why did you-- me to remarry?
I told-- And he couldn't--
it.
I would never--.
Love, I'm singing that-- you loved.
Remember the line that went--?
I'm holding the-- just for you.
Yours,--
Dear Salim, lightning across the sky all night,
lighting up my--.
But no rain, no--.
When I get home, everything is dust.
One pair of-- by the--.
One towel, one--.
1:00 in the morning.
Anyway, I couldn't--.
So I sat by the window watching it streak
and thinking I must look like something lit up.
And-- like this--.
Yours.
Dear Salim, at the store they brought--.
Already bruised on the--.
But still juicy.
I pitted sour--.
All day, the newspaper went--.
With their juice.
I save you-- jars of preserves for your return.
Some plums too.
I haven't opened a--
since they--.
You can't stand all those--
all those teeth.
Or maybe the-- how they stain upholstery like--.
I hope I don't make you--
me.
I hope they allow you some--.
Yours."