Ah, Poetry

A friend was here this weekend and since it was the first time he'd seen the flat he commented on my "poetry bookcase." I really have one. It's full as well, so newcomers have to relegate existing books to a backroom box. Its aesthetically pleasing, and, occasionally useful. So maybe I was thinking about poetry again. Or maybe its because I've not written any for a few weeks; or maybe because I missed Geoffrey Hill at the MMU on Thursday, arriving too late, after "something came up" at work, and meeting a few people afterwards for a drink. I was reminded of the monthly Verberate night at Trof in Fallowfield, and so on a whim I got in touch, and so I'm on the bill next week. Its a mixture of performance poetry, more considered stuff and fiction. Which sums me up! You don't get a big spot, but it usually gets a good, large and varied audience. From here I came across Steven Waling's blog, and surprised I've not come across it before. I once did a "gig" with Steven Waling at the Cornerhouse, me, him and Carol Batton, possibly a never-to-be repeated line up, and you see him around quite a lot, once in Sainsbury's in Fallowfield, where, had I been a bit quicker I'd have mentioned Ginsberg's poem about Whitman in the Supermarket. He'd have liked that. Now, of course, I've got to put together my setlist. And only a week to fret about it. A week!