I want to end with a number of poems that have not
been collected in a book.
And they're all-- or most of them
are quite different from each other.
This is, in some ways, an introduction
and introductory poem to them, I realize.
Though I didn't know it when I wrote it.
And yet, it's utterly different from them.
It's called "The Heart".
"In the first chamber of the heart,
all the gloves are hanging but two.
The hands are bare as they come through the door.
The bell rope is moving without them.
They move forward cupped as though holding water.
There is a bird bathing in their palms.
In this chamber, there is no color.
In the second chamber of the heart,
all the blindfolds are hanging but one.
The eyes are open as they come in.
They see the bell rope moving without hands.
They see the bathing bird being carried forward
through the colored chamber.
In the third chamber of the heart,
all the sounds are hanging but one.
The ears hear nothing as they come through the door.
The bell rope is moving like a breath without hands.
A bird is being carried forward, bathing in total silence.
In the last chamber of the heart,
all the words are hanging but one.
The blood is naked as it steps through the door with its eyes
open and a bathing bird in its hands.
And with its bare feet on the sill,
moving as though on water, to the one stroke of the bell,
someone is ringing without hands."
[APPLAUSE]