WEBVTT

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[APPLAUSE]

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Thanks really a lot, Alison.

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Given what Alison just
said about daydreaming,

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I think I'll begin with a
relatively recent poem called

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"The Day Dreamers."

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I think everybody's mind does--

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this isn't the poem
by the way, this

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is the poet talking
right before the poem.

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I think everybody's mind
does have a landscape

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it tends to return to.

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For a lot of people it might
be a natural landscape.

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For me, I think it is a city,
kind of a medium-sized city with

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lots of--

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there's water near it, and
there's lots of railings

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and it's terraces of different--

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"The Day Dreamers."

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All day all over the
city every person

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wanders a different
city, sealed intact

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and haunted as the abandoned
subway stations under the city.

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Where is my alley doorway?

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Stone gable, brick
escarpment, cliffs of crystal.

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Where is my terraced street
above the harbor, cafe

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and hidden workshop,
house of love?

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webbed vault, tiled blackness.

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Where is my park, the path
through conifers, my iron bench,

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a shiver of ivy and margin
birch above the traffic?

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A voice.

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There are a mountain
and a wood between us--

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one wrote, lovesick-- where
the late hunter and the bird

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have seen us.

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Aimless at dusk, heart
muttering like any derelict,

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or working all morning,
violent with will,

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where is my garland of lights?

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My silver rail?

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