 I'm going to read most things that I just recently wrote mostly, and we have six minutes, so I'm going to get right to it. Oh, thanks. They help. I think I'll start with this little poem. It's called, Reality is No Obstacle. Refuse to obey. Refuse to sleep. Refuse to turn away. Refuse to close your eyes. Refuse to shut your ears. Refuse silence while you can still sing. Refuse discourse in lieu of embracement. Come to no end that is not a beginning. And I'm going to share with you my first draft that I wrote as what my idea of when Oath of Office would be is Poet Laureate. It's dedicated to all poets everywhere. It is the poem I serve, luminous through time, that celebration of human breath of music. It is and always has been the muse, androgynous and ruthless as any angel, scattering words that need no radio frequency, no broadband. It is the light on the ocean here and the sky in all its moods, luminous fog that wakes me up to write, and something I call the imp of the short poem. It is the people of San Francisco in their beauty, bright, luminous eyes looking out from homeless faces, looking up from gardening, skateboarding, singing, playing cards, playing ball, barbecuing in their backyards. The folks in the Mission, the Excelsior, in Bayview, Hunter's Point, Japantown, North Beach, folks in the sunset working or idle, passionate, angry, silent, powerful in their silence. My friends and neighbors parked at Ocean Beach at Twin Peaks in their cars watching the sun go down. My vow is to remind us all to celebrate. There is no time too desperate, no season that is not a season of song. And then I thought I would maybe share this from the New Revolutionary Letters edition. Someone asked me to write a poem for the Millennium back in 2000, and so I wrote a history of the Western world, I think. It's called In the Wink of an Eye, Millennial Notes. If Iliad and Odyssey encompassed two sides of the great divide, the great break with the mythic and rise of the wily, the Palimitus Odysseus, still the sacred king, though living in the west, and with shards, shades of the old time, clinging to his robes, Palimitus Odysseus degenerates into Pius Annaeus, the careful old fart, practical family man, and we are lost to ourselves for a thousand or more years, till the aching dullness is too much to bear, and we emerge into Tantra, the way of ecstasis, roomy to Vidal, and the dull party gets freaked and burns up Provence. An old Dante arises to put a cap on the fire, impose some order on ecstasy, and Willi the Shake tries to see could they coexist, ecstasy and order, harmony and God seeking freak out, and he doesn't solve it, but he makes some kind of trembling equation, and Blake says, fuck all this, fuck coexistence, we need, we do need a new spiritual order, and proceeds to make one, sweeping the romantics along in his wake, and Baudelaire agrees, but won't come out to play, tries to make a new order inside the shell of the old, but Rambo sees with his seers eyes that we are all already in it, the spirit, and stark raving naked will have to leave everything behind, and at first he is thrilled, but then cops out his two Chilean outer space with no clothes, he'd rather die a sleaze but human, for God's sake. There is only one place to go from there, the Lema, the new spiritual order for real, a western term, a complete with crazy wisdom, the holy books, and sometimes, just sometimes the American cats move in on it, they don't know from order, they don't know from clothes, naked in space is okay with Melville, Whitman don't know from leave behind, blasted with vastness and forlorn with blood sickness. This is more than existential crisis, just space, and pound and also bring history along for the ride, the ocean currents and how we followed them so that Troy falls again, or doesn't this time, doesn't this whole thing happen because Troy fell? Doesn't this whole thing happen because Troy fell? Men stopped wearing perfume and silk, brightness fell from the air, the lady of heaven got bored and went underground. It is a crisis of spirit and the leap out of it beyond it our most recent shot, just space, hermetic definition, a different color, a different light in the mind. Is that six minutes? Yes? We good? Bye. Thank you.