Thanks.
I'd like to thank everyone for showing up.
I think as Alison was saying, I mean,
if I was put in your situation, I don't know whether--
I'd probably go see Karen Finley too, you know.
Really go to the Poetry Center, go to a poetry reading.
Of course, I have to do this because it's my job.
But one of the strange moments.
But I'd like to thank you for making that choice.
But also being here when Karen Finley is here, also
with part of the controversy that's
attached to her, and around her, reminds me just briefly
of the analogy of--
the story that I heard once about Walt Whitman being
invited to read at a college in New England.
And I can't think of the name right now.
But basically, he was invited by students,
by the graduating students, to be the speaker
for the graduation ceremonies.
And the reason that they invited Walt was because they thought--
well, because Leaves of Grass was a real notorious book,
and it was smutty, and they were hoping that he'd
do something outrageous.
And the way I remember reading this story was
that- was that the seniors were on
were horribly disappointed by Whitman.
Because he was thrilled to be invited anywhere.
So from his point of view, it was
just like it was this wonderful, grand trip up to New England
to do a reading.
And people were really listening to him.
And in fact, the way I remember this story,
it was like, Whitman's voice, at least from the reports,
was a very small voice.
Couldn't really hear it.
And in fact, the only way that the students
knew that the reading was over was when the President
stood up and shook Walt's hand.
So from Walt's point of view--
from the students' point of view it was a real you know--
But I would have gone too, if Walt had been there.
So thank God nobody else was reading that day.
I'm going to start off with some poems
from Victims of the Latest Dance Craze.
Alison was talking about the idea of playing
with the metaphor of dancing.
And this first poem is one of my favorites in the book.
It's about learning-- getting over that fear of dancing.
Know, one thing you've got to learn before you dance
is to get over your self-awareness of your body
when you hit the dance floor.
Luckily my wife to be got me past that.
We went off to this--
I remember going off to this bar in Rochester,
and it was a gay bar.
It was a wonderful place to dance because women can dance
without getting harassed there.
No, really.
That's one of the big reasons why we went out to this place
called Jim's.
And also, one of the great things about dancing at Jim's--
one of them was--
One of the great thing in dance ball dancing at Jim's was
that you'd have this ability to go and dress up.
I don't know if you guys-- these guys are probably
too young to remember the glam days of rock and roll.
So when people would cross dress and dress up and wear
all sorts-- eight inch high heels, and spikes,
and all this kind of stuff.
And so dressing up was really a great way
of getting out on the dance floor.
And by disguising yourself and going out there
and not having to worry about it.
But even with the disguise, you have
to still have to get past the point of just
being able to allow yourself to be a bit of a fool.
So that catalyst is the catalyst for this poem,
"Miss Johnson Dances for the First Time."
"When Ophelia met the water it was a gentle tumble
of a dance, a mixed marriage of a dance.
The swans were confused.
She was a contradiction in terms.
She was, simply put, a beautiful death.
Not so with Miss Johnson.
A wheat field of a girl, who held her breath as she
cast herself on the dance floor in a metallic blue dress
at the Grange Hall on Saturday night,
holding on to a skinny mechanic who knew two steps that
could be shown in public.
It was like being pushed off the raft by her father--
the awful moment when the body believes in nothing.
How ridiculous her body looked, how her brothers
loved to remind her--
a wharf rat.
A drowned cow.
When Amelia Earhart met the water, assuming,
of course, that she met the water, did the sea mistake
her for a bird or flying fish?
In the awkward moment she belonged
neither to sea nor air, did she move like Miss Johnson moves
now, bobbing like a buoy at high tide, gulping mouthfuls of air
as her legs learn the beat and push,
and her blue dress catches the mechanic's pant leg
like an undertow?"