Thank you Alison for that lovely introduction.
And it's a great pleasure to be here.
When one says something like that,
it's pure self-indulgence, because nobody in front of me
realizes what you're talking about,
because they don't remember the other occasions
when you've been there.
But there have been many happy visits to Tucson
going back to the 60s.
And I remember them all fondly.
I have a number of dear friends here
that were formed that long ago.
I want to do something tonight, and I don't know at all,
whether it works.
Alison has been telling you about The Folding Cliffs.
And it's a--
I want to read as much as I can to make sense
of that story to you tonight.
But it's the length of a novel.
It's 300 pages.
And obviously, I'm not going to read--
you needn't worry about that.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHING]
I'm not going to read 300 pages.
But I've been asked to read some earlier poems before I
do "The Folding Cliffs."
So I start with a few but only a very few earlier poems and then
go on to "The Folding Cliffs."
It's-- as Alison has told you, it's not even officially out
yet.
Although what-- with publishing practices now,
you don't know what that means.
The pub date is October 13, but there
have been books in existence since the beginning
of September.
And-- but it is-- it is that recent, and--
and it's obviously it had something that nobody quite
expected, including me, so.
But I want to start with a few earlier poems
that I've been asked to read.
And one of them is a poem called "Yesterday."
It goes back to an earlier book that's
in this novel reprinted in a volume called "Flower in Hand"
by Copper Canyon.
"Yesterday."
"My friend says, I was not a good son, you understand.
I say, yes, I understand.
He says, I did not go to see my parents very often, you know.
And I say yes, I know.
Even when I was living in the same city,
he says, maybe I would go there once a month or maybe even less.
I say, oh, yes.
He says the last time I went to see my father--
I say, the last time I saw my father,
he says the last time I saw my father,
he was asking me about my life, how I was making out.
And he went into the next room to get something to give me.
Oh, I say, feeling again the cold of my father's hand
the last time.
He says, my father turned in the doorway
and saw me look at my wristwatch.
And he said, you know, I would like
you to stay and talk with me.
Oh, yes, I say.
But if you are busy, he said, I don't
want you to feel that you have to just because I'm here.
I say nothing.
He says, my father said, maybe you
have important work you were doing.
Or maybe you should be seeing somebody.
I don't want to keep you.
I looked out the window.
My friend is older than I am.
He says, and I told my father it was so,
and I got up and left him then, you know.
There was nowhere I had to go and nothing I had to do."