I attended last night's session. Remarkable poetry:
Mark Doty, Stephen Dunn, the mud, Yusef Komunyakaa and oh did I mention the mud?
It does however feel fitting that the baptism of this patrician wood be carried out with such hurried straw bedding and tractor truck pulls. My, the world is flat!
My heart does ache that our Poet Laureate Louise Glick will not be in attendance, merely as celebration for her quiet reign would even work, let alone her significant and jarring insights. The real star, however was Jim Haba the festival director, its cautious and delicate work for a snail to change its shell. He is masterful and enthusiastic and I’m sure a way will be found into growing and thriving into these outstretched acres.
Take plastic baggies for your shoes, a 4-wheel drive if you have it, your wallet (sushi and a drink = $10) and for what its worth Sunday looks the best of the days remaining.
