And this last poem that I'm going to read
is actually a poem from this week.
It's our-- Kim asked us to think about the nations inside of us.
And when I thought about that, my grandpa and his brothers,
they were mechanics.
And they made their living by fixing cars.
And so that meant that there was a lot of car bodies
around my house my entire life.
And I think it's nice to think about the idea of repurposing
or something being stripped to its essence.
And so that's what I was thinking about with this poem.
The nation inside me is glossed in copper tinsel
and turns the eye towards the shaded.
Tire carcass, blessed in bergamot buds,
glitter lakes that go strange in the sun.
A rainbow muck inglorious on gravel.
In my nation of tin breakers and tinker men.
Oil light revved in their gums.
We expose our ventricles.
Let any looker see this yard of empty verbiage for what it says.
Here are the strippings undressed to the beam.
Miigwech.
[APPLAUSE]