A BLOW-BY-BLOW ACCOUNT
I got off the Aircoach by the yellow Metropole and taking my bearings
decided to head for the bus station on the other side of the river
which I did, lobbing a puddle up the right leg of my pants on the way.
I had a phonecall to make and two heavy bags but Augustus Young was
due to read first, at 2.30pm, and that was one reading I was going to
be there for. "On Loaning Hill" made me very happy a long time ago
when poetry was not generally fun.
So I decided to head straight to the reading but that wasn't possible
as not too many people along the way knew where the Christian Brothers
School on Sullivan's Quay was, or even Sullivan's Quay. But one quay
folded into another and each person helped me a bit along the way. I
felt like I was disappearing into the recesses of a forgotten art
form.
But when I got there – to that old school building which looked more
or less exactly as I thought it would look, unloved – I saw I was
wrong. Up on the side wall of the school, these words:
ROT ENOUGH
TO LEAD TO
A LAPSE IN
THE ABILITY
TO SUPPORT
OF A BEAM
Cheered, I went down along the flank of the school and round into Cove
Street and in the back door which may be the front. Through the Vinyl
atrium, about which more later. Down Christian Bok's steps:
IF TIME LIVETH LIKE THE HELIX KNIT WITHIN THE IVY VINE
THEN ENTWINE THY INFINITE LINE WITHIN MY VINYL TEXT
Over Tim Robinson's Aran Islands, up the iron steps, through Simon
Cutts' and Erike Van Horn's stunning collection of books spread out on
huge table planes in a huge room (more about the books later), and
into the Cork Men's Voice Choir room (after a brief hug interlude with
Trevor) where Matthew Geden was engaged in presenting the first
readings: Bill Griffiths and Nancy Kuhl. It turned out that Augustus
Young couldn't come. I was so happy to be there I didn't think about
being disappointed.
One of the first things I noticed was the lovely way Bill said
"curls": it sounded like "Kells," a town I've never been sure how I
feel about. Bill started with a narrative poem "to break us in
gently" but his voice kept its narrative embrace through the reading
which was very nice. Here are some of the things Bill said:
"There's a temptation, if you read too much Tolkien" (forgive spelling
if wrong), "to believe the countryside is somehow indestructible"
(this may not be the right word)
So I was surprised a few years ago to find it was all man-made … I was
also a bit shocked to find that this applied to the Alps."
"From the Himalayas, we move to a larder. It's my precept that poetry
should be able to deal with anything and so here we are in a larder."
"One disadvantage of living in England is the BBC."
Something that sounded like "WHOOOOOOOOO."
Nancy Kuhl began by commending Kathy Prendergast's piece in the Vinyl
show. More about Vinyl later for sure. Nancy read a poem that
reminded me very strongly of that Amergin poem. Translated by Robert
Graves. Nancy read a prayer, a chant, a curse. Then poems in the
voice of Salome – Nancy's Salome was smart, articulate. She read a
poem to her husband, framed by the 5 houses they have lived in, in 5
states, over 10 years. She read a poem called "The Catherine Wheel."
I was trying to remember Bernardino Luini's paintings of St.
Catherine. Some day I am going to go to Milan to see them. Richard
Deming participated in Nancy's reading. There was another poem
involving chasing a woman who was running away from being served
divorce papers. I found that terrifying. For some reason I kept
imagining Nancy in a white coat; I thought she would look terrific as
a doctor or a physiotherapist.
Some other things I noticed:
Right in front of me were sitting Billy Mills and Catherine Walsh and
their two sons. The two boys have hair exactly like Billy's. I think
they have imbibed a lot of poetry, more than my girls.
MORE LATER
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