WEBVTT

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This poem is called "Clouds of
Willing Seen in the Bird Day"

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and the title is
from Gertrude Stein.

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"Clouds of Willing
Seen in the Bird Day."

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I love it.

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It's the best thing
in the poem by far.

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Amiable Monet in lieu of
that at a now, postdated

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like his eyes,
crafty, a beaver's,

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flush with the floating
water lily fields.

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And you?

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Anybody more remote
would be dead languaged.

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You are nice library,
nice library, sit.

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Who hasn't been out of
line for a long time

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like the cooked spinach
green boat in sunrise?

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20 feet short of the wobble
laid down by the orange sun low

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in the emerald air of the sea.

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It's so easy to
difference and cumber,

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an eyelet passed through
to a little evil.

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Boomerang of heart bone,
winging into the dark refusal

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of beauty.

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What is special electrical
railroad and anyone

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that anyone should feel so
wide open under the moon's

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sudden cheekbones?

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Scatter corn on the
dock as the wild geese

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pressed toward you
on the languid lake,

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their greeny platinum
circles of evening.

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What you cannot think
will be your life.

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My friend, Brenda
Hillman, read this poem.

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She said, you're so bossy.

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You're such a bossy poet.

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But I was talking to myself.

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OK, give me a break.

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Scatter corn on the dock.

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and I'm the nice library,
nice library, sit.

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OK.

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So.