Wednesday, July 28, 2004
poet Randall Williams (who read some great political stuff with homemade dummy G.W. in attendance) & his partner Lissette let us stay at their superfab place in the woods. log cabin, built circa 1840s, replete with stiff humidity & a variety of luscious slithering creatures, intoxicating air & visuals, smirking felines that pleasure-kill squirrels and shrews, a dozen tottering chicks ordered fresh off the internet, an aromatic garden featuring thai basil, chiggers feasting on human flesh with great appetite as Lisette's plagued torso testified. . .and so on. . .
but about the event.
there's a link for the audio so you can judge the poetry for yourselves.
i was told that i missed a few really good readings.
those i did catch & particularly recommend :
Patrick Herron (featuring "The Blood Spattered Banner" & "Weasels Eagles Maldives Corpuscles" - each performed with appropriate disoriented &/or frenetic angst)
Lee Ann Brown
K. Silem Mohammad
everyone seemed to truly enjoy themselves. grinning monkeys. i especially dug meeting and talking with sharp Kasey Mohammad. also happy to catch up a little with Patrick, who was positively pleasant & eloquent, despite how (pre?) occupied he was. by the way, i imagine he & his wife have a newborn by now...
hmm. seems i can't gather my thoughts together enough to share any special moments or details about the thing right now. dag.
here's a snip from something Patrick wrote awhile back:
Festival an overwhelming success
*AUDIO & COMMENTARIES AVAILABLE* http://carrboropoetryfestival.org
For those of you who missed out, audio of the event is now available in mp3 format at the festival website.
The festival was a success in ways I never imagined. Two of the seven sessions were standing room only--especially amazing considering the festival was a poetry event unaffiliated with any writers organization, reading series, or university. I had no idea what to expect, but I never expected so many people would stick around for ten hours of poetry.
The excitement of the participants was palpable. I have never seen so many poets excited about poetry like they were that weekend. Maybe it was the weather, the turnout, the after-hours discussions across the street on a porch at a well-known watering hole. Who knows. But the gang just sort of, well, coalesced.
a good time!