That was very dear, thank you.
I'm really glad to be here, extremely glad to be here.
Mama, thank you for the flowers, I'm going to move them.
I'm very grateful.
How's that?
Is the mic OK?
Yeah.
I'm really glad to be here, very, very pleased to be here.
I'll tell you what I thought I'd do.
I'm going to read some from Loose Sugar.
But sort of try to just give you a little mix of my work.
And I had in mind sort of reading about Earth,
and mothering, and sexuality, and time,
and some of the things I've been thinking about over the years
across the books.
And I'll end with a new poem that I
have read only once that's about to be published
and is a few pages long.
I'll start with-- we just had our anniversary
of our big earthquake in California.
This is Mighty Forms.
The Earth had wanted us all to itself,
the mountains wanted us back for themselves,
the numbered valleys of serpentine
wanted us, that's why it happened as it did.
The split as if one slow gear turned beneath us.
Then the Tuesday shoppers paused in the street, and the tube that
held the trout-colored train, and the courts of action
from triangular buildings and the terraced gardens that
held camellias shook and shook, each flower a single thought.
Mothers and children took cover under tables.
I called out to her who was my life from under the table.
I hid under the table that held the begonia with the fiery stem,
the stem that had been trying to root, that paused in its effort.
I called to the child who was my life
and understood in that endless instant
before she answered, seeing how pharaoh's army seeing the ground
break open, seeing the first fringed horses fall
into the gap made their vows, that each heart changes faced
with a single awe.
And in that moment, a promise is written out.
However we remember California later,
the Earth we loved will know the truth,
that it wanted us back for itself with our mighty forms
and our specific longings, wanted them to be air and fire
but they wouldn't.
The kestrel circled over a pine which lasted.
The towhee who loved freedom, gathering sea during the shaking
lasted.
The painting released by the wall, the mark and hook
we placed on the wall, and the nail,
and the memory of driving the nail in, these also lasted.