Saturday, 21 April 2007

That Night at the Torriano Meeting House (2/4)

These noises also punctuated James’ set, and to a lesser extent (fewer opportunities) Alyson’s. The atoms of the exhalation resemble breaths of bewildered satisfaction, as if loosed seeing a possession not in its proper place, when it isn’t actually thought of as lost. These building blocks are rotated and combined to accomplish literary-critical omnipotence. It can be a bit tricky to reconstruct a primary text from its critical appendages, but from one of these sighs an interminable variorum edition of its poem is unmistakeable to the cutest smudge of comma. Whilst intermissing some of us talked about how we’d run an open mic. (It is difficult to listen to somebody who’s on the same bill as you. When everybody’s on the same bill it’s difficult for anybody to listen to anybody. There are other problems. Moral fortitude is not the answer). We’d have one or two people perform everybody’s work, or tip it in a hat, and from that hat all our hands take it, and perform one another’s work. Or we’d just have the sighs. Each poet could take the stage, the room could sigh, that poet could sit – such evenings would be more profitable and popular as you could get through more poets.

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