It is another beautiful morning with the fog running in and out and one little bird going chirp, chirp, chirp, right outside the window.
I went to a poetry reading last night at Grace Cathedral. The fog was swirling in and it was freezing up there atop Nob Hill. It was quite majestic inside the cathedral which was filled with people wanting to hear poetry. Sharon Olds, Galway Kinnell, Robert Hass, Brenda Hillman, Cornelius Eady and Evie Shockley read. I had attended this event a few years ago, and though it said it was at a huge church, it was in a side room with three rows of chairs, so I was surprised when I walked in to see it was in the main church with the setting sunlight shining through the stained glass. The poets read from the altar and their voices rang with the wonderful acousics. Wow.
Of course, Galway wasn't sure where to put his water bottle. The altar was clearly not appropriate, but he found a little table on the side. The poets were unaware they would be reading in such a place, so scrambled a bit to change some of their choices, and then at the end, Sharon Olds went irreverent in her usual way and read her poem, Ode to Douche Bag. I'll see if I can find it on-line, but I believe it is one of her new ones not yet published. She pointed out that when young girls call someone a "douche bag," they have no idea what they are talking about.
Galway Kinnell did not read this poem of his that I love but he did say the word Daybreak, which reminded me of it.
On the tidal mud, just before sunset,
dozens of starfishes
were creeping. It was
as though the mud were a sky
and enormous, imperfect stars
moved across it as slowly
as the actual stars cross heaven.
All at once they stopped,
and, as if they had simply
increased their receptivity
to gravity, they sank down
into the mud, faded down
into it and lay still, and by the time
pink of sunset broke across them
they were as invisible
as the true stars at daybreak.