So this book was really about some intense heartbreak for me.
But I'm happily in a relationship now.
And since I'm so happy, I've been
thinking a lot about death.
So this is a poem about death, but hopefully a nice one.
Beginning of Spring, working title.
It's always a working title, you'll
see it somewhere with a completely different name
one day.
"When I see my death, it is with you, hunched over vines
perfected over many summers.
We have asked these tomatoes to be ours.
The early peonies and tight bulbs
have their heads in flames.
In this garden edge with winding paths,
I follow through to the curves you have.
Your face is forever a map I read back to myself.
I have made for you while I still
could everything I wanted to, knowing that a time would come
when the mouths of grass enclosing me
will house beetles making purple irises.
The breads cut open on the cutting board.
Your paintings are watching from the walls.
My notebook is open on the table to this sentence half finished,
laid out with sweet air gone out in one direction."
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]