The most recent book, it's called Writings
To An Unfinished Accompaniment, and I
want to read some poems from that
and start with one called The Unwritten.
Inside this pencil crouch words that have never
been written never been spoken never been taught,
they're hiding
They're awake in their, dark in the dark hearing us,
but they won't come out
Not for love, not for time, not for fire
Even when the dark has worn away they'll still
be there hiding in the air
Multitudes and days to come may walk through them,
breathe them, be none the wiser
What script can it be that they won't unroll?
In what language would I recognize it?
Would I be able to follow it to make out
the real names of everything?
Maybe there are many
It could be that there's only one word and it's all we need
It's here in this pencil
Every pencil in the world is like this.
[APPLAUSE]