I'm going to read just one more, part of one more.
This is also the first section of a longer poem.
It's called "Liberty."
It's another collage poem, but a little bit less cacophonous
than the previous collage poem I read.
The borrowed material here comes principally
from the poet Paul Éluard and the philosopher Ludwig
Wittgenstein.
I should say also, that in truncated form, that
is reading simply the first section,
the fact that there are five epigraphs
will probably make the epigraphs feel a little top heavy,
but I need to read them anyway or the poem won't make whatever
kind of sense it does make.
So "Liberty," the first four epigraphs
are from Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations.
I'll just pause a minute between each section,
rather than reading the section numbers, right?
And yet it is clear that one can want
to speak without speaking, just as one can
want to dance without dancing.
And when we think about this, we grasp
at the image of dancing, speaking, et cetera.
But everyone who has not become calloused
by doing philosophy, notices that there
is something wrong here.
The concept order would have lost its purpose.
Suppose it were asked, do I know what I long for before I
get it?
If I have learned to talk, then I do know.
And the final epigraph is from Rousseau, The Social Contract.
Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.
The idea of liberty, the idea of absolute liberty.
Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.
The absolute idea of absolute liberty, the monkey
is dancing to the tune and adjusting his red fez.
You are not standing on my eyelids,
the idea of liberty adrift.
The woman not only admired the horse,
but also fell in love with it.
Paul Éluard said you are standing
on my eyelids, something wrong here.
And when we think about this, we grasp at the image.
The woman not only admired the horse,
but also fell in love with it.
Or rather she admired the horse so much,
she fell in love with it.
Or she fell in love with it, and this feeling
was compatible with the feeling of admiration
she felt for horses in general, and for this horse
in particular.
And when we think about this, we grasp
at the image of dancing, speaking, et cetera.
Yet everyone who has not become calloused by doing philosophy.
The idea of you in your hat, yet it
is clear that one can want to speak without speaking.
Man is born free, and everywhere he is in your hair or your hat.
On Thursday, by the breakwater without your hat,
the concept order would have lost its purpose.
A few stars drifting like bobbing corks on my eyelids,
and your hair is in my hair.
Then down by the water, and in it up to your thighs.
Then phosphorus on my eyelids, and your hand.
If I have learned to talk, you are standing on my eyelids,
said Paul Éluard, and your hair is in my hair.
Just as one can want to dance without dancing.
Not calloused, you look up at the Big Dipper
and talk in English.
I look at you and talk in my head in English,
then not at all.
And when we think about this, we grasp
at the image of speaking, dancing, et cetera.
Through phosphorus, your hand slowly in water
up to your thighs.
On my eyelids, you are not standing on my eyelids.
Absolute liberty, man is born free and everywhere leaves
lie down in a [AUDIO OUT].
We're standing in your hat.
Now you were not standing on my eyelids.
The monkey is dancing to the image of dancing,
and your hair is in my hair was an idea, an absolute idea.
Take three giant steps.
You in your hat, in your eyes without your hat.
Naming the countries to find you among them.
Each one is named in English, my native language.
May I?
Yes, you may.
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]