enchantment and the never ending gathering at the lips of the kiss of poem. now, [applause]. now, i understand them causing an enormous amount of anguish of my voice. i brought my girlfriend. she is going to read 3 poems to you so you get another dimention of my voice. please welcome, agnes ford the house of the setting sun. the comrade again and the poorist way wave you. to the red flag. i put my mount to your misery new orleans. here, war lies piles so high. this floating prison of a cementary cries of range. this delta lies on its side. rows and rows upon it s own government and crushed. summertime is over and the living is dead. and around midnight all hopes are looted. no one will ever come clean of the katrina of the new orleans and the stinking house of the setting sun. but it s the black and the blue of the loving on the shoes, let alone a dime or water, america, you are always scotched earth in our mouth. always a rain of disaster of streams of our broken eyes.