. >> garrison keillor: maxine kumin lives on a farm in new hampshire where she breeds arabian and quarter horses writing poetry, four novels, more than 20 children's books. she says, "i don't want to write poems that aren't necessary. i want to write poems that matter." >> this is a little one called after love. afterward, the compromise. bodies resume their boundaries. these legs, for instance, mine. your arms take you back in. spoons of our fingers, lips admit their ownership. the bedding yawns, a door blows aimlessly ajar and overhead, a plane singsongs coming down. nothing is changed, except there was a moment when the wolf, the mongering wolf who stands outside the self lay lightly down, and slept. ( applause ) thank you. ♪ >>> this is guijie street beijings largest gourmet district. more than 100 eat ris and bars line the 700 met

. >> garrison keillor: maxine kumin lives on a farm in new hampshire where she breeds arabian and quarter horses, writing poetry, four novels, more than 20 children's books. she says, "i don't want to write poems that aren't necessary. i want to write poems that matter." >> this is a little one called after love. afterward, the compromise. bodies resume their boundaries. these legs, for instance, mine. your arms take you back in. spoons of our fingers, lips admit their ownership. the bedding yawns, a door blows aimlessly ajar and overhead, a plane singsongs coming down. nothing is changed, except there was a moment when the wolf, the mongering wolf who stands outside the self lay lightly down, and slept. ( applause ) thank you. ♪ >> coming up next on "jubilee" ... ♪ ♪

. >> garrison keillor: maxine kumin lives on a farm in new hampshire where she breeds arabian and quarter horses writing poetry, four novels, more than 20 children's books. she says, "i don't want to write poems that aren't necessary. i want to write poems that matter." >> this is a little one called after love. afterward, the compromise. bodies resume their boundaries. these legs, for instance, mine. your arms take you back in. spoons of our fingers, lips admit their ownership. the bedding yawns, a door blows aimlessly ajar and overhead, a plane singsongs coming down. nothing is changed, except there was a moment when the wolf, the mongering wolf who stands outside the self lay lightly down, and slept. ( applause ) thank you. >> hello and welcome to "global 3000." at what point does development aid begin to do more harm than good? join us as we tackle this topic and much more. here's a look at what's coming up on today's program. poverty as business -- a critical look at kenya's aid industry. thirsty neighbors -- honduras and el salvador share the same shrinking river. and off the street

. >> garrison keillor: maxine kumin lives on a farm in new hampshire where she breeds arabian and quarter horses writing poetry, four novels, more than 20 children's books. she says, "i don't want to write poems that aren't necessary. i want to write poems that matter." >> this is a little one called after love. afterward, the compromise. bodies resume their boundaries. these legs, for instance, mine. your arms take you back in. spoons of our fingers, lips admit their ownership. the bedding yawns, a door blows aimlessly ajar and overhead, a plane singsongs coming down. nothing is changed, except there was a moment when the wolf, the mongering wolf who stands outside the self lay lightly down, and slept. ( applause ) thank you. >> with over 80 million books sold, she holds a special place in the hearts of many baby boomers and gen x'ers, thanks to her books that chronicle the excitement, angst, and confusion of growing up. tackling issues like racism divorce, bullying, menstruation, and teen sex, her books flew off the shelves, but also caused a great deal of concern for some libraries, sc

visit ncicap.org] >> garrison keillor: toi derricotte grew up outside detroit. with the poet cornelius eady, she cofounded cave canem, an organization committed to cultivating and supporting the work of african american poets. she says, "truth telling in my art is also a way to separate myself from what i have been taught to believe about myself-- the degrading stereotypes about black women." >> blackbottom. when relatives came from out of town, we would drive down to blackbottom. drive slowly down the congested main streets-- beaubien and hastings-- trapped in the mesh of saturday night. we were freshly escaped, black middle class. we snickered and were proud; the louder the streets, the prouder. we laughed at the bright clothes of a prostitute; a man sitting on a curb with a bottle in his hand. we smelled barbecue cooking in dented washtubs and our mouths watered. as much as we wanted it, we couldn't take the chance. rhythm and blues came from the windows, the throaty voice of a woman lost in the bass, in the drums, in the dirty down and out-- the grind. ♪"i l

. >> garrison keillor: martín espada was born in brooklyn, new york.orked as a tenement lawyer in boston, teaches at the university of massachusetts, amherst-- creative writing, latino poetry, and the work of pablo neruda. he's published 16 books, and his collection of poems, the republic of poetry, was a finalist for the pulitzer prize. >> at 16, i worked after high school hours at a printing plant that manufactured legal pads-- yellow paper stacked seven feet high and leaning as i slipped cardboard between the pages, then brushed red glue up and down the stack. no gloves-- fingertips required for the perfection of paper, smoothing the exact rectangle. sluggish by 9:00 p.m., the hands would slide along suddenly sharp paper, and gather slits thinner than the crevices of the skin; hidden. then the glue would sting, hands oozing till both palms burned at the punch clock. ten years later, in law school, i knew that every legal pad was glued with the sting of hidden cuts; that every open law book was a pair of hands upturned and burning. ( applause ) >> fu

. >> garrison keillor: maxine kumin lives on a farm in new hampshire where she breeds arabian and quarterng poetry, four novels, more than 20 children's books. she says, "i don't want to write poems that aren't necessary. i want to write poems that matter." >> this is a little one called after love. afterward, the compromise. bodies resume their boundaries. these legs, for instance, mine. your arms take you back in. spoons of our fingers, lips admit their ownership. the bedding yawns, a door blows aimlessly ajar and overhead, a plane singsongs coming down. nothing is changed, except there was a moment when the wolf, the mongering wolf who stands outside the self lay lightly down, and slept. ( applause ) thank you. >>> the generals in control, the economy could be a long campaign. stays the course policymakers are asking if easing has gone too far. >>> and the jump start, this is one thing the market did not see coming. >>> hello, you're watching ash"asia biz forecast." we're chris crossing the region looking for investors. those on fire and those misfiring.

. >> garrison keillor: when marilyn chin came to the united states from hong kong, her father changed her name from mei ling to marilyn because, she says, he was obsessed with marilyn monroe. she's a poet, a translator, a novelist, and codirects the mfa program at sand diego state university. >> the woman wore a floral apron around her neck, that woman from my mother's village with a sharp cleaver in her hand. she said, "what shall we cook tonight? perhaps these six tiny squid lined up so perfectly on the block?" she wiped her hand on the apron, pierced the blade into the first. there was no resistance, no blood, only cartilage soft as child's nose. a last iota of ink made us wince. suddenly, the aroma of ginger and scallion fogged our senses, and we absolved her for that moment's barbarism. then she, an elder of the tribe, without formal headdress, without elegance, deigned to teach the younger about the asian plight. and although we have traveled far we must never forget that primal lesson-- on patience, courage, forbearance; on how to love squid despite squid... ( laughter ) ...how

captioned by media access group at wgbh access.wgbh.org >> garrison keillor: toi derricotte grew up outside detroit. with the poet cornelius eady, she cofounded cave canem, an organization committed to cultivating and supporting the work of african american poets. she says, "truth telling in my art is also a way to separate myself from what i have been taught to believe about myself-- the degrading stereotypes about black women." >> blackbottom. when relatives came from out of town, we would drive down to blackbottom. drive slowly down the congested main streets-- beaubien and hastings-- trapped in the mesh of saturday night. we were freshly escaped, black middle class. we snickered and were proud; the louder the streets, the prouder. we laughed at the bright clothes of a prostitute; a man sitting on a curb with a bottle in his hand. we smelled barbecue cooking in dented washtubs and our mouths watered. as much as we wanted it, we couldn't take the chance. rhythm and blues came from the windows, the throaty voice of a woman lost in the bass, in the drums, in the dirty down and out-- the gri

. ♪ >> garrison keillor: when marilyn chin came to the united states from hong kong, her father changedause, she says, he was obsessed with marilyn monroe. she's a poet, a translator, a novelist, and codirects the mfa program at sand diego state university. >> the woman wore a floral apron around her neck, that woman from my mother's village with a sharp cleaver in her hand. she said, "what shall we cook tonight? perhaps these six tiny squid lined up so perfectly on the block?" she wiped her hand on the apron, pierced the blade into the first. there was no resistance, no blood, only cartilage soft as child's nose. a last iota of ink made us wince. suddenly, the aroma of ginger and scallion fogged our senses, and we absolved her for that moment's barbarism. then she, an elder of the tribe, without formal headdress, without elegance, deigned to teach the younger about the asian plight. and although we have traveled far we must never forget that primal lesson-- on patience, courage, forbearance; on how to love squid despite squid... ( laughter ) ...how to honor the village, the tribe, that