WEBVTT

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And I'm going to close--

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actually, I'm going to
close with the last section

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of the poem towards the end.

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And it's a part
that Susan read too.

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And this is the fourth
section in that poem.

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Manifesto of a Drum.

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I am just burning up up here.

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Oh my goodness!

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I was fine when I started.

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But yeah, wow, the energy.

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Let me actually get some water.

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For as long as a
saola can flee, I

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have been brooding
in my sleep, moving

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through a century of leaves.

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A voice out of scrying,
a river shifting my ears.

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Some early mornings
are left for listening

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to water tones lilting the
banks of a primeval lake,

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but the lake has been
lacquered into the stars,

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mirroring its clotted
hand down to mine.

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What does it take to raise
an answer from the grave,

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quantify stillness of doubt
through unmarked bodies

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becoming ciphers for loss?

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I gather sharpness of my burn
beyond agony for an answer.

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It is not to know the
shape of what happened,

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but to know it happened,
it happened, it happened.

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Here, I make my light
to gaze the trail,

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then sing this rain
threadbare into storm.

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If love is the
sacrament of digging,

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then here I hold
my found into fire.

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Thank you all so very much.

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[APPLAUSE]

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