RR, good point about the relative lack of ego — a remarkable thing for a group of poets; you know how we get! I’d attribute that to the fact that the spotlight wasn’t on our own art, but somebody else’s.

I’m so pleased you enjoyed it. I began watching last night and it was the greatest pleasure to relive that most extraordinary evening. All those marvellous writers in one room. Who would have thought that would happen? It was the greatest privilege to be in their company and to hear them read their words. At the time I kept thinking… ‘Concentrate man, don’t miss a nanosecond of this!’ I felt that I needed more ears and eyes than the ones granted to me in order to catch it all. But Dave’s film captures much of the experience, and for that I am so grateful to him. Bravo Dave! Bravo Bravo! My video hero!

Yes, everyone who cares an inch about poetry should write to Callum to encourage him. Believe me when I say he is a man who has no idea how good he is. That Hervé poem… and his reading of it… would move a stone. A STONE!

:)

Beth, see, I told you wouldn’t be able to watch just half the reading! Fun, wasn’t it? Do check out Callum’s blog and encourage him to write and post more poetry! He told me after the reading that he only writes a couple poems a year. It would be a tragedy if someone of his talent keeps his light hidden under the proverbial bushel-basket, aside from this anthology.

Albert, I’m glad you enjoyed the reading, and that it sparked a pleasant memory as well. Callum James and Andrea Selch are ace poets, no doubt about it. I hadn’t thought of Marly as especially nun-like before. I’m not sure how she’ll take that comment!

You should be able to get your hands on a copy of the book through the Carolina Wren Press website. Thanks so much for the enthusiastic response.

Davies sounds like an Oxonian don; Marly Youman like a literature-loving nun; Dave Bonta reminds me of a poet-friend who had to grow a beard to look older (sounded like him, too. The fellow is back in Iowa teaching poetry cum salt-n-pepper beard); Andrea and Callum read poetry I would dearly like to lay my hands on. Clive looked and sounded every bit like the consummate artist/poet that I am sure he is. So delicate. (:–)

Back in the old country, at the university where I taught, my poems were rendered into paintings, and I painted some of my readers’ poetry, quid pro quo. I felt every word they said about my paintings, as I am sure Clive did. At that reading, also in a library, I exhibited a self-portrait with my likeness up a tree and that of my wife on the ground with a menacingly angled frying pan. Some enterprising student scribbled a caption on its price tag: “Come down and I’ll make fries of you yet, you couch potato!” (It was the only painting sold among my 12 pieces. I bet you the caption did it!)

Thank you for this, Dave, and thank you, too, for this rare recherche du temps perdu of a like and cherished episode. Bravo!

Ditto here!