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Laura-Gray Streets reads Sandra Beasley's poem, "Unit of Measure”.

Laura-Gray Street:

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I'm Laura-Gray Street.  I'm going to read a poem by Sandra Beasley called "Unit of Measure" which has a lovely use of (?~0:08) in it.  It is both funny and tender and poignant and helps us humans see ourself very differently.

Unit of Measure

All can be measured by the standard of the capybara.
Everything is lesser than or greater than the capybara.
Everything is taller or shorter than the capybara.
Everything is mistaken for a Brazilian dance craze
more or less frequently than the capybara.
Everything eats greater or fewer watermelons
than the capybara.  Everything eats more or less bark.
Everyone barks more than or less than the capybara,
who also whistles, clicks, grunts, and emits what is known
as his alarm squeal.  Everyone is more or less alarmed
than a capybara, who--because his back legs
are longer than his front legs--feels like
he is going downhill at all times.
Everyone is more or less a master of grasses
than the capybara.  Or by going by the scientific name,
more or less Hydrochoerus hydrochaeris -- 
or, going by the Greek translation, more or less
water hog.  Everyone is more or less
of a fish than the capybara, defined as the outermost realm
of fishdom by the sixteenth-century Catholic Church.
Everyone is eaten more or less often for Lent than
the capybara.  Shredded, spiced, and served over plantains,
everything tastes more or less like pork
than the capybara.  Before you decide that you are
greater than or lesser than the capybara, consider
that while the Brazilian capybara breeds only once a year,
the Venezuelan variety mates continuously.
Consider the last time you mated continuously.
Consider the year of your childhood when you had
exactly as many teeth as the capybara--
twenty--and all yours fell out, and all his

kept growing.  Consider how his skin stretches
in only one direction.  Accept that you are stretchier
than the capybara.  Accept that you have foolishly 
distributed your eyes, ears, and nostrils
all over your face.  Accept that you will never be able
to sleep underwater.  Accept that the fish
will never gather to your capybara body offering
their soft, finned love.  One of us, they say, one of us, 
but they will not say it to you.