Report from Navigation, 18th March

We start at 8.30 now, sign up in person at the bar from 7.30pm. Photos by Sabine, report by David.

2nd crowd scene

Amel sang Rocketman, David Sirois navigated the magnetic clouds. Tyrannosaurus Rex spoke to the hairless monkeys, and Yann. Melinda was on a junior highway to Hell. Max went missing in Danemark. Christelle knows of island where we long to be marooned. Kristina read from Eugene Onegin in Russian. Carmen navigated Eros [insert agony here].



Alberto: “This poem sucks,” not his own poem but a translation of Neruda’s. Actually translation is a strange beast. For years I’ve loved the melancholy and angst of Neruda’s “Walking Around” only to discover that in Spanish its not like this at all but is a laugh a minute.

Gabriel promised to buy everyone a beer. “One beer. For everyone.” He was a spoken animal, scattering sound. Lisa Passold told of an eye operation that stranded her narrator in Paris. “Sure, you’re stranded in Paris.”

Crowd scene

Brandon met an old woman eating her clothes. Zachary saw subatomic humming birds and then “you are crawling up the Eiffel Tower, your eyes small and vengeful.” Joshua was the saint among the stragglers. Dot Devota drew conclusions in the protocol. While Jen K Dick dreamt the world began in a jar of orange neon. She presented some of her CERN poems and almost collapsed into giggles as she discussed the discovery of the Higgs-Bosom.

And lots of other stuff happened. More will certainly tonight. We have a Featured Reader – Claire Trévien, an anglo-Breton. From the blurb about her book The Shipwrecked House:

Anchors, shipwrecks, whales and islands abound in this first collection by Anglo-Breton poet Claire Trévien. These poems are sketches, lyrics, dreams, and experiments in language as sound.
Trévien’s is a surreal vision, steeped in myth and music, in which everything is alive and – like the sea itself – constantly shifting form. Fishermen become owls; one woman turns into a snake, another gives birth to a tree; a glow-worm might be a wasp or ‘a toy on standby’. Struck through with brilliant and sometimes sinister imagery reminiscent of Pan’s Labyrinth or an Angela Carter novel, The Shipwrecked House is a unique and hallucinatory debut from a poet-to-watch.

Tonight’s theme: clichés.
Sign up from 7.30 in the bar.
First round starts at 8.30pm


Dot Devota

Dot Devota

Zachary Schomburg

Zachary Schomburg



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