I read at one of the best poetry venues I've ever seen, on Thursday - Brighton's Redroaster Coffehouse. The audience was great too. The only challenge in the high-ceilinged old-fashioned coffehouse is that readers/performers face a wall-sized mirror that only the prettiest and most vain of poets will adore when trying to focus on their work and audience. But, once past that distraction, it's a must-go-to space for anyone heading that way. Sadly, Daniel Kane was ill, but happily he was replaced by British-Canadian poet Naomi Foyle, who read brilliantly from her pamphlet, Canada (Echo Room Press, £3). Her poem about the Toronto poet "Jones" (anyone recall him?) was hilarious. And finally, I was able to hear Carrie Etter read from her latest work. She was sensual, witty, and moving, in equal measure - she's a real fusion poet (able to balance the needs of the page and the stage) - and also a hybrid poet (merging the lyric and the experimental). She has a great poetry voice, one of the best. Her poems about 9/11 and her son were particularly striking. The night was co-hosted by Les Robinson, poet and publisher-editor of Tall-Lighthouse, and it's always good to see him.
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.
Comments
My sister lives near Brighton. Had we been staying with her last week, we would have attended.
Best wishes from Simon & Rusty