It has been years since I visited Golden Gate Park’s Conservatory of Flowers, a big white domed structure that sits gracefully at the beginning of JFK drive.
Rows of chairs are set up at the entrance of the conservatory. Some have already been occupied. The wise ones brought heavy blankets. At 6:30 in the evening the wind has kicked up and the fog is fast descending.
Evan Karp the organizer of Quiet Lightning has created a monthly poetry reading event unlike others. He whips out an audience (attendance over a hundred) who actually come to listen to poetry. They pay an entrance fee, buy books and drinks, and stay until the very end.
Jack Foley and I read in the cold, bracing the increasing strong gusts of wind. After the first five readers the reading moves inside. Now people and plants compete for space. In the farthest wing of the conservatory, a tyrannosaurus rex has smashed through the roof and stuck his head out for air.
Photo by Ian Tuttle.
It was great to read with you. I enjoyed it. My hat enjoyed it. (Sometimes I don’t even have to go places: I can just send my hat.)
CLARA’S SCARF
I am like
a river moving round
and round
a countryside