As part of Copperfield’s Reading Series, I saw the poet Billy Collins read tonight at the Luther Burbank Center in Santa Rosa.

It was actually the second time I have seen Billy Collins read. I like him. Not only are his poems entertaining and accessible, he is an great reader. He has a good sense of timing and a self-deprecating, gentle manner that reminds me of Bob Newhart. He’s the sort of person whose every observation is somehow interesting to listen to–which is probably part of why he is such a good poet.

Anyway, the crowd was ecstatic to have him, clapping at every pause and audibly saying “awww” or “hmmm” after some of the poems. It’s nice to see people that excited about poetry, even if my friends and I were the youngest people there who weren’t with their moms or getting extra credit for class.

Since it is Valentine’s Day, Collins read several love-related poems. He didn’t read my favorite of his poems, Undressing Emily Dickinson, but he did read his hilarious play on love imagery, Litany, which I pasted for you below. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Litany

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine…
-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and–somehow–the wine.

– Billy Collins