The sitar is warming up the lounge room as I go through the notes for tonight’s event.
Details:
Thursday 26th November 2009
6-7.30 PM
The Royal Australian Naval Sailing Association
SIr David Martin Reserve
New Beach Road
Rushcutters Bay
Our ‘Sea Things’ film is finished and Tyler is happy – both of us amazed by how much improved the visuals are with quality sound – that sonic life improves the visual images; as if it is a physical substance that paints the pictures. I am hearing Graham’s poem in my mind’s chamber, over and over he is talking about a ‘drowned cathedral’ a ‘Neanderthal skull’ and ‘church bats’. The more I recall his poem the more Gothic it is becoming.
The duffle bags are roped up and ready for the car trip to the space. All the poets arrive this morning and at 2 O’clock we depart to the venue space to set up. Tamryn has made the most exquisite poems-in-bottles which shall be for sale for a tiny donation of $2 or more.
Friday is markedly different from Thursday where I sat at a deliriously classy restaurant and listened to stories about climate change being a governmental conspiracy, how the inner city is still in need of quality after school care for kids with nowhere to go when the bell rings and then myself, fumbling out reasons why poetry transforms the big and the little worlds, all the time thinking, a poem would better explain what I want to say but, nerves and all, I couldn’t recite one.
