I sculpt and I write and I work
I am everywhere.
I am in the boat and on the wall and at the war
I am in the birth room, the death room, the sick room.

I see it all and I hear it all
I am heaven and earth and hell
I am graffiti and I am broken shards of pottery
from the tombs of Egypt.

I plant it all in your brain
I show it to your eyes
Beethoven, yes I played it
for his blind and deaf self.
I showed him the way to the 9th
Symphony.

I love to watch people weep as they
hear the familiar strains, sitting back in my knowledge
that the world over, I am bringing you all
that inspires you.

Emily Dickinson and me.
We were best friends.

Mother earth and I fight occasionally.
She says it is her flowers and rolling hillsides
and fall tapestry that inspires the poets.
She takes the credit for the words and the art.
Nature, as if!

At night when you sleep,
while you stare blankly out the train window
when you shower, when the door slams.
I guide your hand and your faith.
I whisper about Flanders fields, the New Colossus, Black River.

Thank you for listening.