I'm going to read one more, because I've
got a couple of minutes.
This is called "Aria."
It mentions the German filmmaker, Fassbinder.
"I can't remember the name, the movie by Fassbinder,
in which a homely woman eats breakfast, reads the paper,
cleans up, in one long scene of maybe 30 minutes, one
of those women you pass by in the grocery
and wish the world were a fairer place.
But she was stark naked.
And I couldn't take my eyes off her body.
While others fall away, such beauty
stays in the mind, one part marred,
nine parts whatever symmetry and variation adheres to the whole.
Even the soul has them, Those dark
spots you see in x-rays the technician
leans in and squints, unsure whether they're
signatures of your death or irregularities.
Or he simply doesn't know how to read them.
It takes a careful attentiveness.
That black veiled woman we used to see
walking near the university after sunset, half
her face a dark purple mask.
Once a celebrated singer, that aria unwinding
from an old recording, so scratched
you can't tell whether you're listening to song or scream."
Thank you.
[AUDIENCE APPLAUDS]