This next poem is entitled "Renaming My Face."
And there's a name that gets repeated
in the poem, which is--
the name is Mehina.
And it was simply a name that came
in a dream, a name I had in a dream for myself.
The reading begins to get a little serious now.
So--
[LAUGHTER]
--the funny poems are all behind me.
Actually, this poem is very much indebted in part to a film
that a friend of mine made.
I'm sure I wouldn't have written this
if it hadn't been a combination of the dream
and seeing a film that he did.
"Renaming My Face."
Mehina.
One clock, one mirror, one last vertical gaze, flowers
and smoke.
One milkman, Mehina, one milkman who
kissed my two wives, my friend, Mehina, one stranger, one
friend, one piece of paper citing repairs,
many visits to a girlfriend, one policeman, Mehina, who ticketed
our mirror, one clock bonging, many visits
which were only one visit.
Girls, Mehina, girls, girls who went nowhere,
waving from a train which went nowhere
because they waved from a film.
One stranger with not enough flowers
for so many girls, all of them on the train, the stranger
and girls.
The stranger, Mehina, who smokes, the policeman, who
smokes, the mirror which is broken,
the house of Mehina owned by Mehina,
the duchess who cared for me, the vertical Mehina,
the flat stomach of him who could not make love,
the flat stomach which tasted like your kiss,
the broken kiss of the mirror.
Hours I spent watching myself, renaming my face,
Mehina, letters I wrote, clocks I repaired.
Correction, repairing my face, dreaming flatly.
The mirror, which wanted to bark at me,
Mehina, the smoke which fell, Mehina, keepers who died,
my friends who died, the lies I told,
Mehina, the lies, the broken kiss of each lie.
One mirror, which needed a kiss blown by Mehina,
blown gently through an open hand, out over magenta fields.
Correction, one kiss which needed pity,
one mirror which needed repair.
Mehina, the kiss which needed repair."
[APPLAUSE]
Oh, thank you.