The brothers’ related banter…
J: Okay Hank, here’s our poem for today it’s called The Skylight by Seamus Heaney. It’s actually a recommendation by Jeremy.
(Reads poem)
J: The Skylight by Seamus Heaney, a funny poem to start our comedy podcast.
H: (Laughs) I was just thinking the other day about how I like enclosed spaces, and how my house is, my bedroom is very large, it has a large, it has a high ceiling, it’s not a very large bedroom, but it has very high ceilings and I sometimes am like, “I just want to be in the closet.”
J: (Laughs) I love glass and steel homes. I believe, like, my favorite house is Phillip Johnson’s glass house and I would be very happy in a house with no walls at all, just so long as I had extreme privacy.
H: (Laughs) Nope, that’s not how I feel. I used to, when I was a kid just make little nests in the closet and pack myself in there and spend time there and my parents thought it was super weird. Our parents.
J: Yeah, they were my parents as well. Henry does that now so maybe he got that from his Uncle Hank.
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Click to read poem
You were the one for skylights. I opposed
Cutting into the seasoned tongue-and-groove
Of pitch pine. I liked it low and closed,
Its claustrophobic, nest-up-in-the-roof
Effect. I liked the snuff-dry feeling,
The perfect, trunk-lid fit of the old ceiling.
Under there, it was all hutch and hatch.
The blue slates kept the heat like midnight thatch.
But when the slates came off, extravagant
Sky entered and held surprise wide open.
For days I felt like an inhabitant
Of that house where the man sick of the palsy
Was lowered through the roof, had his sins forgiven,
Was healed, took up his bed and walked away.
John Green Reads Poetry 