WEBVTT

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I just want to read a poem.

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In most of my
readings I always like

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to read a poem by somebody else.

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And this is a poem written
by a friend of mine

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who actually was
a Wall Street man.

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He spent most of his
life on Wall Street

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making lots of money.

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But now he's a poet.

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And he and I are
exchanging ideas for poetry

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and this is one of the poems
he sent me and I'm working

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with him on it.

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It's called "Winter
Morning, Holding my Wife."

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Concave and concave,
we will someday

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be curves to sure brushstrokes.

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We are dim and naked
under flannel, calm,

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it's first light and quiet.

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We lie like crocodiles in silt,
ignorant of our necessities,

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holding, being held.

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There are no baby smells here
while we grow older in his--

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this sunrise, ours
is a grave embrace.

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As we once prayed
beside our beds, so now

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we lay us down to dream of
rising suns on long horizons,

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making cradles for our
souls' warmth and warmth.

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Small breaths back and forth.

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Here is what we know.

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