 Jan Suha, from the Kansas State University Library, is going to read to us from Lisa Pratt by Walt Woodman. Woo! I'm really honored to end with this reading, because I am so amazed at everything I've heard tonight. And this event just gets better and better every year, and so thank you to all of the readers who took a chance and stood up. Right? But you may not know that Walt Woodman's book, Leaves the Grass, when it came out in the middle of the 19th century, was shocking. It was, well, it was like before, I think. So, in fact, Walt Woodman lost his job, because at the Department of the Interior, because his boss found it offensive. Poet John Greenling Whittier threw his copy on the fire when he read it. Thomas Wentworth Higginson wrote, It's no discredit to Walt Woodman that he wrote Leaves the Grass, only that he did not burn it after. Another critic called it a mass of stupid filth. And that, uh, Wentman was a filthy, free mother. Whatever that means. On my find, you know, but when I'm depressed, I bring out Walt Woodman, and I read it, and it makes me feel better about everything, because what does Walt Woodman accept? The poet of democracy. He's the one who teaches us empathy, tolerance, and acceptance. He embraces all things. After all, he said, I am large. I contain multitudes. Probably my favorite line in all of English literature, because we are all large and we all contain more. So, never fear, I'm not going to read you all the song of myself, or something like that. Although it would be fun with an American reading, I love it. Let's do it. Um, what I want to do is read you a little bit lesser known, poem by him from Leaves of Grass, called Native Moments. And I chose it because it is one of the ones that was, uh, requested that it be changed, because it was too shocking for 19th century. Native Moments. When you come upon me, ah, you are here now. Give me now the witness joys only. Give me the drench of my passions. Give me life, course, and rank. Today, I go consort with nature's darlings. Tonight, too. I am for those who believe in loose delights. I share the midnight orgies of young men. I dance with the dancers, and drink with the drinkers. The echoes ring with our indecent recalls. I take for love my love some prostitute. I pick out some low person for my dearest friend. He shall be walless, rude, illiterate. He shall be one condemned by others for deeds done. I will play a part no longer. Why should I exile myself from my companions? Oh, you shun persons. I, at least, do not shun you. I come forth with, in your midst, I will be the part. I will be more to you than to any of the rest. Thanks, Paul.