Report by Alberto
Tensions and rumours and blushings at Spoken Word: it was the night before Valentine’s day. We opened with Brian Howton: “My eyes pulsed and burned, the images received a blur — obscure patterns of light according to a strange geometry.” Emily B: “She was a whore.” Kate from now on on our stage: “You’ll be always forever laughing in my stars.” Kate Noakes: “My smell, when I want to fool you.” Kat: “My life has become a script, a tragic comedy.” Georgina introducing Unstrung Letters. For Valentine’s day Patrick drove us through the filthiest of the James Joyce’s love letters: “To Nora Barnacle 2nd December 1909.” Being so filthy I have to lock it up into an external link. As you may know in 2004, one of those erotic letter from Joyce to Barnacle was sold at Sotheby’s for £240,800 (US$445,000); but for you cheap literary perverts, there is also a facebook group.
James Jewell: An Old Meteor
(…) ..Before my lids could close, another meteor floated from one side of my pupils to the other. Then the ghosts of my grandfathers family told me stories of Chestertown, but I was asleep.”
Ferdia and Shone: “Are you the Genie of the Lamp?” “No. I’m the Gigolo of the lamp, I do wanks.” Chris Waller’s sonnet: Ghosts of Hotel Rooms Solitude. Troy needs just a title to put it clear: “2nd Coming”. Our featured poet was Steven James Smith from Dublin, performing the notorious Ticking Clock Poem. Chris spying Beauty. Jason’s Summer Sunday Best from the Tragicoptimist archives. Marie: “She’s white but she’s not racist.” Marie Babie and Patrick covering The Velvet Underground. There’s a video. Mandoline reading Robert Haas: The envy of other people poems.
Alberto seeing a drunken bride walking out from darkness. Lucile: “You know I stick, but I don’t stain.” Remi’s tribute to Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs. Beatrice letting us know more about Cristina Cavalli. Shane: “I cursed poetry.” Pablito: “I ask for a cigarette but I’m already breathless” J.D. exit song about unhappy marriages. Happy S. Valentine’s day!