So I'm not going--
there's one poem from this book in the exhibit,
it's the one that's on the chiffon hanging.
And I'm not going to read that one.
You can read that one.
I'm going to read a poem called "Camisado."
Do you know what this means in military terms?
It means killing your enemies in their sleep.
I remember the first time I heard it.
I was in junior high in a social studies class, history,
something like that.
And I remember the teacher--
the reason I remember is because it was such an odd sentence.
The most famous American camisado
is when George Washington crossed
the Delaware to kill the British and their sleep,
that whole thing.
He' like-- and he was just talking about how it was really
great and very brave and courageous.
And I was like, mm, I don't know.
Killing people while they're asleep dreaming
about fish and chips or whatever they're doing.
I don't think that's a problem.
I don't know what you're talking about.
It's courageous.
We love to be courageous in this country, murdering people.
So anyway, I wrote this poem when--
and they all stand on the bottom of the page.
This is a poem I wrote after Trump was elected.
"Camisado."
"After breaking in, the wolf calmed the hens
so he could take his time with them,
twist them open until the right amount of memory
fits into the song.
Another high price for belonging.
Poetry is the opposite of escape,
but makes this world endurable.
How the smallest puddle reflects the entire sky.
I return to every dream our minds talked us out of,
trusting our math of the star.
Your hand around my shoulder.
Poet astronaut, you know I love you.
I have no sense of failure when I'm with you.
Everything matters because everything hurts someone
somewhere as it is mattering.
We became all we carried into the mast, migratory patterns
given to the love again.
A way to end the secrecy of suffering.
Cut a door in the wolf so we can retrieve our dead for a world
that matters."