And this is the last poem.
It's called Dream-- [AUDIO OUT]
"She thinks, empurpled by romance,
by which she would recognize that poetry
isn't revolution, but a way of knowing why it must come.
If this cheap, mass-produced, wooden stand from the Brooklyn
Union Gas Co., mass-produced yet durable, being here now,
is what it is, yet a dream map, so obdurate, so plain,
she thinks the material and the dream can join.
And that is the poem.
And that is the late report."
[APPLAUSE]
Thank you.
Thank you, and especially to the people
who were sitting on the stage.