I was working, as I said, with the alchemists.
And I devised this form that the alchemical furnace
had a pan at the bottom of it.
And when they were burning the metal to make the gold,
presumably, the ash fell to the bottom of the pan.
And so, I was putting language at the bottom of the page
to make something like an alchemical furnace,
because we could reuse it.
And so, these little thingies at the bottom of the page
are just details that came into writing the poem.
These are poems about depression.
They're straight edge.
They are poems about being a straight-edged depressive,
so not using chemicals to deal with the depression.
And there's something about the idea of stages
and alchemy that interests me, that the business
of the human spirit renewing itself in a very cyclical way--
and having to.
So I thought I'd read four of these little short poems
with the drippings or whatever they are--
ash, my husband calls them-- ash.
"Horizontal Series--" they're a little abstract.
So don't worry if you don't get them.
It's OK.
[LAUGHTER]
They're hard.
Come in, you said.
But the day did not hear you.
And you saw for the first time it wouldn't be as you supposed.
The heart would always hurt from not being chosen.
Doves line the longing streets with their east colored silks--
their latitudes.
You didn't have to be like those.
You could pretend the other magic also had returned--
even if it hadn't.
His depression, his writing--
it's hopeless.
He'll try the new drug.
Third stage-- sublimation, Jupiter, dry refinement.
And I explained the rules of football to her--
wide receiver.