This is what I received L and presumable others (?). A mystery. Maybe your
computer is tired and emotional. Or the digest has indigestion. If so you
won't be able to read this either one presumes.

G.

Subject: soundeye day 3 part 1


> OUT OF SYNC
>
> Although Kelvin Corcoran's reading was today, Day 4, not on Day 3, the
> subject of this report, I will start with Kelvin's reading as for me
> it included an awareness of the bombings in London today, news of
> which we just had heard.
>
> Kelvin, in his poetry and prose introductions, helped me think about
> poetry. Ambition, as he spoke about it, in reference to men like
> Blair, Bush, Sharon, Milosevic – and Octavian, seemed to have only
> malignant import. He spoke about Bush's "senior poetry advisers"
> (shapers of policy and reality); I could almost believe in them. He
> stopped once after a line: "You must choose abacus or knife," to say,
> with a hand gesture, "We have chosen the knife," and a bitter laugh,
> "Our leaders have chosen the knife." I had an image of Kelvin coming
> with his fists wiping poetry from his eyes. He read a poem, "About My
> Country," where "about" functions also in the sense of "all about,"
> "surrounding," "in the environs of," "connected to." Kelvin read
> elegiac love poems to Doug Oliver and Barry McSweeney; and living love
> poems to his wife, the first one of which made me envy her. It was an
> sad, angry, elegiac reading. Some lines I noted: "An old man said of
> Anthony, after he met Ceopatra: 'He was glued to her'." Kelvin
> handles words uniquely: "Occasionally, in this part of the world" (I
> think Greece), "the bodies of refugees and illegal immigrants are
> washed up. Often these people have never seen the sea. And next
> thing they find themselves in a boat. And next thing they find
> themselves drowning." Though not blatantly rhetorical, he reminded me
> a little of Alan Dugan. I was reminded too, listening to Kelvin, of
> how much, for me, poetry is an expression of a person's spirit and not
> a matter of cleverness or skill though it is that too. At one point,
> the audience released its collective breath.
>
> BACK TO DAY THREE
>
> In the Archives Institute I read the words of a slave at the block:
> "I would rather die than be separated from my family."
>
> Also an anecdote about Daniel O'Connell:
> "It is said of the late Daniel O'Connell, (who, whatever his faults,
> was always true to the slave), that whenever he was told that an
> American wished to be introduced, his first question was 'Is he a
> slave-holder?' and if the reply were in the affirmative he would have
> no communication with him."
>
> And a list of goods that the Cork Ladies Anti-Slavery Society would
> welcome for their box to be sent to the Rochester Anti-Slavery Society
> Bazaar:
>
> "Some of the articles which command a ready sale are as follows:- Fine
> Irish Linen; Irish Bog-oak Ornaments; Material for Children's Dresses,
> unmade; Pinafores, of all kinds, made-up; Crochet Work, Purses and
> Balls; Baby Linen with the exception of Caps; Tatting, and Knitted
> Edgings; Water-Coloured Drawings; Choice Mats and D'Oylys; Fancy
> Bracelets; Gloves and Gauntlets, for Ladies and Gentlemen; Stockings;
> Toys; Boxes of tapes; Honiton Lace; Carriage Bags; Sofa Cushions;
> Papier-mache Ornaments; Worked Collars and Cuffs; Slippers for
> invalids; Cambric Handkerchiefs, and Fancy Stationery."
>
> In fact, "There are few things which would not be acceptable."
>
> LUNCH IN BISHOP LUCEY PARK
> This park, a small strip off Grand Parade, is a good idea gone sad.
> The weather refused to recognize the name "July" or have any dealings
> with it. To walk past the park was not the same as to enter. To
> enter was to see poverty. Today as I walked past a man alongside me
> was muttering: "You hit me with a lump hammer in the back. Then you
> ran like a scalded dog." Yesterday the park was adrift with
> undercared for children, some underclad in the cold, of many different
> ages and all seemingly in the care of one man and one woman, who
> seemed to come from a different world. There were sad scenes being
> played out all over the park, the children playing like hell, and
> sufficiently oblivious visitors having lunch.
>
> CATHERINE WALSH & BILLY MILLS
> The mike has a small sign with "ear" written in green on it; the amp
> has a twin sign "mouth;" there are lots of sibling signs, in blue and
> red, on the glass of the display case of the City of Cork Male Voice
> Choir along one wall. Billy plays a recorded piece and looks out the
> window. He writes "Poems/Places" on a sheet of newsprint taped to the
> 2005 Cork City of Culture poster which marks our reading space; then
> "exist"; "systems"; "location"; "names"; "associations". I notice
> "eye" on a window-pane. Billy takes down all the words and puts them
> up on the display case. Catherine and Billy read the words, I think
> improvising combinations and tone. I think how intelligent the human
> voice is: how the human voice can infuse scattered words with meaning.
> Not that scattered words are short of meaning. But that the human
> voice can provide syntax where there is none, or little. Billy and
> Catherine's voices work beautifully together. This is a complex
> performance, finely chorographed in effect. But ambient, relaxed.
> Catherine issues a set of daily domestic commands. I see her older
> son smiling wryly. The pieces ripple along, now Catherine, now Billy,
> now both, their two voices plaited loosely together, now recorded
> tracks. There is one terrific piece from Catherine's CITY WEST which
> brings my North city back to me, with all its immature abrasive
> derogatory elbowing sounds. Catherine reads about Fatima Mansions,
> built in 1951, "Corporation flats." Oliver Bond Street. St.
> Theresa's Gardens. Of Fatima Mansions: There is a girl in London, or
> Barcelona, saying its name in her head. A boy in Cork, or somewhere
> else, saying the name, the block, the number, blurting the name as he
> learned it in school. "Put your shoes on!" Catherine directs. Her
> younger son registers the command.
>
> Billy and Catherine's reading is all about voice and sound. I love
> it. That they are married make the collaboration sweeter, more
> admirable to me.
>
> Billy's explanatory note to "Lincoln Place" is the most sober
> explanatory note I've heard, detailing as it did in a few sentences
> the Dublin bombings of December 1st 1972. My sister, who was in
> Sackville Place, gave birth to her first child 5 days later.
>
> Billy read some Carl Rakosi and Catherine read some Gael Turnbull, and
> they end, I think, with "Body Sounds." This reading reminded me of
> Calvin Coolidge & Alvin Curran recently in Providence: I felt
> refreshed after both readings.
>