Stage. Hello everyone. All of the sponsoring agencies and people. Ind host in introducer here for todays special reading and conversation. Im just explain that to you. Them i any book fair knows a good thing when it sees one. To close out the Poetry Program we are back for the third incarnation of a now a regular event. With two past poets. Today, we will hear from two writers who have managed to create major bodies of poetic work while maintaining a steady output of critical writing. Literary essays. Reflections on art, poetry in life. Thinking is very important. For whom consciousness in all of its mysterious workings is often a primary suspect. Is not to say that they reside in a purely intellectual realm. To the contrary, he has been described as a lyrical virtuoso. To the famous onion soup. While charles cynic with one of his essays. They talk about food. In the world. It is food for the body and nourishment for the mind. Hopefully they would be largely fueled by your questions. I will introduce robert half. A native of the San Francisco bay area. The National Book critics. The time in materials that remain the most recent. Justly recognized for the brilliant work. This year he has published a little book on form. That reflects the wrist on a restarted sheet astonishing name. That will turn ordinary readers into students a poetry. In the recurrent National Landscape as well as the attraction. At the same time it wrestles with the burden into privileges of the european past. The literature in history and modes of thought from adam and eve it is one of the rare writers that the two great traditions east and west seem mutually engaged and equally appreciated ethically balance. Where the poem or essay it is always lyrical and invigorating. If there is a wild flower that he does not know the name of it probably is not worth noticing. If there is a poetic form or idea it must rank somewhere below the limerick. Please welcome robert half. Thank you campbell is so much and thank you for being here. Its such a thrilling event. To see that many people out especially the little kids. If we had been writing for so long its hard to know what to read anymore. What i usually do is read fairly recent things. I had been writing down the tone of voice. So the first one. They had been doing in the Population Survey which is pretty sketchy work. Up on the cumberland plateau. Late afternoon in tennessee. My companions are telling wildlife ecologist versions of war stories the only way he is saying you can tell a male from a female. It is by digital inspection. His wife has just left him. He rammed his hand into the fold of the biggest goddamn gator you have ever seen we have her pinned and tied it pretty good but she was trashing seriously. We were all sweating seriously and the owner was not inconsiderable. And they were up to their forearm. Just a minute. And he pulls his hands out in his wedding ring is gone. He just stares at his hand and we just sit there staring at him because we have held that gator as long as we were inclined to do. But of course we also knew the decision was up to him. That is just listening and reporting on the world. It requires audience participation. I will tell you the title and then we have to say. Praise to the brass and at. Ellipsis and the tea. In the soft palate and the hard palate in the vibration of the vocal cord. Peter piper picked a pack of sea shells by the sea shore. You might as well say it. She sells rubber baby buggy bumpers. It is early march Late Afternoon there is one tiny mouth. Just outside my window. The loudest in the smallest of all of the spring birds. Three sweet notes perfectly spaced and then sometimes a fourth. Not difficult to say but it requires a small increment of effort. The bare branches of the sycamore. As peer pure pleasure. I find it hard sometimes to say that the people in california in august stand on tiptoe to pick it that the deer cant reach. That the deer cant reach. Pick right huckleberrys. The round lease. They were glowing just gold right now. Maybe it is just plain. They have taught chimps over hundred words. And the words cannot be formed to make new concepts. But kat doesnt seem quite right. What if its not just the range of things that they want to do. I want to say right huckleberry. It goes from branch to branch because i want too. Praise to the breath in the teeth. And the lips. And to the tongue into the animal to those who first said that. Here is something a little bit darker and a little longer one of the things if i could fight it quickly okay. One of the things i have come to understand and listening to the poetry readings is a difference between that. You can look ahead and see how long they are. With the poem you dont know. It is almost three pages long. And i will raise my hand at the end of each page so you know where you are. Especially with this. You will wonder how long is he going to go on. It is called dancing. The radio clicks on the poor swollen america already up already. And those which commentators are debating whether or not a man who killed 50 people in five minutes or a terrorist or if they are mentally ill. Because if killing large number of people is a sign of sickness you might want to begin with fire our early ancestors drawn to the warmth of it. The great booming flashes of it from the sky in the tree. Ipods breath. Or grass fires. So that to fashion some camp fire burning wood they must of felt like feeding on the crumbs of the gods of power. In the eagle that feasted on his liver. Around a campfire. The tribe of malicious gatherers. They burned blue. And flared green. So simple that children could do it. I gave up a white glow. Some say arabic. It was in china 2000 years ago that fireworks were invented. Fire in a confined space. They knew already about the power of fire and water. One hundred bc. In alexandria. They produced the Steam Powered engine. The earliest depiction of a compact dump gun power weapon. The silk banner. The first one. The english used units and a siege gun. In 1503. The first battle won by the one by the power of rifles. They cut down the battle in southern italy. Explosion of blood in smoke. Mostly farm boys. How did guns come to north america. Headline in the new york times. Divers and discovered the santa maria. One of the lumbar to canons was stolen. In cortez took mexico. The 1679 constructed the seven cannon bark. On the first entering of the continent. The sky darkened by the terror of the birds. The chorus. As the echo of the first astounding explosion. The crew blinking as the wind of their wings springfield arsenal. Rock island arsenal. They were shot with the rim of fire. Breach loading. It was an age of tinkerers. In 1860. About 95,000. 110,000. Contained, exploded. And they were throwing a sand into the fire. The machinegun in 1914. The death in combat all site. 1914. 8,402,000. Someone was counting. It must have been they could since things whistling into the air. It must have shrieked with delight. And the Young Winston churchill invented the new policy. It led to the pact of terrorizing civilians the total casualties in that were worldwide. They were throwing fans into the fire. He have his guts eaten by an eagle. On a rock. They were wondering if he was a terrorist or mentally ill. The casualties does the call to estimate. In the firebombing of tokyo. In a single night. The other industrial countries could not get there fast enough. Contained burned, what scramble was for the rocket. The tens of thousands. They were wondering if the terrorist was crazy. If he was a terrorist maybe he was just unhappy. The other challenge afterwards was how to construct a mercy a machine gun. Light weight complex the weapon of european imperialism to which a few month trained. It became up portable weapon. The equalizer. The insurgents fought off the greatest army in the world. So the afghans fell off the soviet army. In dancing. They were toting that. Around is a bullet. An estimated 500 million firearms on the earth. They were dancing in orlando in a club. The relation of the total casualties. It exploded metal into the bodies of those young men. It was a beautifully made instrument. You can buy anywhere. They were dancing in the club. The spring night. They are still rising in wave after wave. With the vast interior of the new land. The commentator is same they require a very heavy hand. Dancing they threw powder in the fire. They were dancing. [applause]. The author of more than 20 rounds of poetry. With the others. Dozens of other accolades. And immigrated to chicago when he was 16 his childhood experience during and after world war ii it contributed to the hunting of the quasi surreal totality. For all of the darkness the vision remains comic not because he believes the world to be composed laughter is the only appropriate response to the suffering and brutality that surrounds us. The tragedy is merely under developed comedy. In a 50 year career they have created their own mysterious poetic universe. Im suddenly familiar and yet not quite hours. Attended landscape of wind and snow music and philosophy at the same time full of wise cracking butchers and old ladies sweeping up dust. He possesses it seems an inexhaustible poetic opportunity. It was always surprising whether he was wondering whether they like to look at the stars or asking questions about the infinite such as the sound of the surf reminded of the cell. Does it ever sit over a glass of wine and philosophy. More food for thought. Please welcome them. [applause]. Greetings. I will read a poem from the previous book. Scribbled in the dark. They related a good number of very short poems let me just begin. It was a poem about myself king of the insomniacs a student of stealing and making bets. An old soul plane the accordion. A fly escape from the have of a man madman taking it on the wall. The blacksmith our grudging assistant up to renown and in visible master illusionist assuming the person that they present themselves to be. [applause]. I do come from in one part of my family 200 years of village priest. Thats why i dont believe in god i guess. Here is a short little paul at the vacancy sign there was a small room in the back with a bed and chair into woman who locked the door. Leading there there alone was a ray of sunlight you could imagine talking to the retirement dropped in for the visit and bowling quiet as a i got ready to leave. In the week. Monday comes around with a new tattoo in here its tuesday with the nightmare on the leash. Tapping on a windowpane thursday sipping bad a coffee served by a pretty great waitress. Loss and confusion of sad and happy faces and flashing like a pinball machine in the morgue. They were ahead of the crucified christ hanging sideways in the bathroom mirror. [applause]. This is also a short one. Its called signs of the time for a mindful of this quiet it is a cassondra in the sight of the boarded up public library. The rows of books beyond its windows are open for years the sickly dog on the steps in the manned slumped next to him his mouth working mutely and able to recall his lines. At the end of some tragic farce. [indiscernible] a very early memory i guess i was about five years old i would imagine that would be 1943. The movie my childhood is an old silent movie when mother let me by the hand into a dark theater with the film have already started the dream which we happen to drop in with a young woman writing a letter and a bird sitting quietly in her cage no one is paying any attention to it was a city i forgot to say we trudged our way home along the treacherous streets. [applause]. When i lived on a farm i wrote love letters to chickens pecking in the yard when i would sit in the outhouse mending his web over my head. Lets my wife took up at the mailman the neighbors were leaving too. As a ran off to the moving truck and even the scarecrow i once tried to agree so would have to listen to me. This is a short one. All the same. The woman i love as a saint deserves having people falling on her knees before her in the street asking for her blessing and said, here she is on the floor tears run down ran down her face. Some of the short ones are so short i have no idea how long they would take to read. As a Harvard Bookstore in cambridge when i read a very short poem next. On some lady shouted out 30 seconds. I think her. I will read this poem. This is called the fleet. A little fleet loves to see two lovers undress and jump into bed they would be done without lovemaking quickly. So he can have them all to their cell. Quitting their snoring only to scratch themselves. Two more and then i am done. The one that was mentioned. The infinite. The yawns keeps yelling. Is sleepy. Does it miss us. Does the song of the surf reminded of itself does it ever sit over a glass of wine. Does it peek into mirrors at night. Does it have a suitcase full of souvenirs stashed away somewhere. It is whispering Sweet Nothings in that year. Does it enter empty churches to lay a single light a single candle on the altar. Does it see us as a couple of fireflies. With the graveyard. Does it find it quick to reach. And finally a poem called night owls. The addicts of introspection all of them quartered between body and soul. Making burglar stools. To pick the lock of the mystery. And scribblers against the dissembling gods. Mad dogs a mystic love on your way to the pound. The fellow sufferers and wretches like me the pretty ladies too. Each nail to her own car cross. Lets all get some shut eye if we can. Thank you. It and technology services. I guess we will have a couple of large questions interesting to me. There is a microphone right there which if in a few minutes people have questions the notion is salina well open floor to questions. One question i have given that i do think it is one of the notable ones. Weve been doing this event for three years now. This year if there is no matching like with like. Went to poets who are famously brilliant thinkers, critics and analysts. You basically carried on that. I wondered in one sense how you decide like bob if youre thinking about guns and the social issues if youre thinking about the war how do you decide whether that thought in the idea that your thinking is can flow into the form of a poem. Is there a simple message in the or any wisdom there are you. Enough for me to say. The general. I basically know how to do one thing. And i just had always been astonished and the different kinds and different formal enterprises. And how you know say you had guns on your mind. Or an essay or another kind a piece of writing. Mostly i only write like that if i get an assignment. And sometimes its pretty much beginning for the scrap of musical language. If i have to have a good idea it does me absolutely no good. The poems come from i dont know where. You need words to write that. I have a lot of mention of words. This book is about torture. With torture in our times. I dont plan in my head. I want to write a poem. With a topic. Like everybody else. These things emerge with endless thinking. You start writing a poem about your grandfather where you remember him sitting in his chair. And youre right. They just add some other things. The poem does not work. In my case a few years. So than they realize. I have to take the grandfather out. They have emerged and to keep grandfather grandpa, sorry. And that what is left is a poem cameron wrote a book of poems that has it every year for the 20th century. How did you to turn the question back on you you will know you will have to do something with 1927 i dont know you are right. Each year was solving the puzzle anew. And some of the poems are less rich as they might be. I like it better when i can to say when the poem starts to get that happen. I have to do certain things. That is a burden. I agree in the musicality and the language that it shows up in your head. Its almost like working through that. You dont know what the poem is based on the first idea. In the first you have to be discarded. Im always ready to lie and make something up. This is how it happens. But who cares. Something else has to enjoy that. But still, the question always arises thats where you constantly feel that way of aggression. I have read them. The very brink. About the library and so forth. I didnt start that was in mind when i started. It crept out on me. We do live in monstrous times. Its the closest thing we have two an institutional boost. Do you think there is anything especially important for poetry to be doing these days. Ive always thought in mind with the most interesting poems. During the civil war. When most of them are about the fact that her sisterinlaw hurt her feelings. She is still a great one. Obsessed by the war. No one can say so much greater point. What he can do. I spent years working with my neighbor who lived some of the h century. He said it is one of the curses for a poet is to live in an interesting time. He said what a poet really needs is a little bit of a quiet and a rabbit to feed. But i also remember he was enraged or what was described as genocide. In the time and they rask write about it. Was kind of a blurt. We would meet on monday morning. He would have a first draft of the poem. He said to me after a few minutes you dont tell me whether you think this poem is any good. I said Something Like its not any good. But sometimes you will be less ashamed by writing a bad poem than being silent. I say that to myself too. That was a powerful poem. Are you going to set something up on the issue. They will talk to somebody. A few relatives that i had left. I listen to a lot of music. So i have that. It plays a role in his mythical moment. I had one more big question. It also in your in your poetic thinking. They look globally for influences and figures and that. That is whether it was cross the pacific. Never looking very broadly. Do you think the mira of walt building. The globalization and looking culturally on the border of language. Everybody at the universities for example. And humanities it was the modern european literature. There is theres nothing unusual about that. As we know all of that change is along the subject. They are just stopping to teach Foreign Language in high school. And even colleges ito had to you dont have to know another language. We know absolutely nothing about that. About the south americans and so forth if you go to south america they know so much more about that. With american poetry. It is embarrassing. Connects to the same room. They had been diminished down to almost nothing in the culture. The language itself is maybe where you would start start that. For the languages. In the act of translation in literature can speak even more beyond that. Because of the feedback im not sure im getting the question. Would i have a monitor behind us. I was guessing the question for charlies answer. For me i think when we grew up reading the same stuff there was the same generation of critics, writers and thinkers. Who set the table for us. People would say what was the poetry world like when youre growing up and i would say there was no such thing as a