Of course the event didn’t start on time, but at last Rich stepped up to the podium, offered a welcome and made his opening remarks. The auditorium was packed—people lined up against the walls. I don’t remember who went first but I do remember the feeling of poets virtually racing to the podium one after another to read their work. The words poured out—angry, wistful, wild, joyous, playful, spiritual, sexy—no two alike. It was a full and glorious body of work, an experience of palabra to be repeated but never exactly replicated. A kind of “Where you there?” event.