I'll just do just one more poem.
I'll end with this one.
"Ignatz in Furs."
One, her head reared back in an animal posture.
Ignatz, as always, obliged.
Two, Miss May, more modest, still in her stockings.
Three, Ignatz thought again of the wild carnation,
of the equable nature his friend had described that rainy night.
Four, said Ignatz, your eyes like nails
hammered into a blackboard.
Said Ignatz, helpless to avoid doing harm.
Five, question-- what is it that you're testing?
Question-- is there a white spot at which you will bend?"
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]