Out and A Bout

hail, lo! Bloggerissimo. Here, life is all pulling down wallpaper and plumbers and plasterers and what about poetry?

Did manage to attend a poetry reading in honor of International Women's Day. Had Herself, my fifteen month old daughter, in with. Stepped outside at 45 minutes into a 2.5 hour reading. Felt sure the coos and burbles were the utmost distraction. Skulked out and felt certain that we'd been blacklisted from the local scene by our mother/toddler duet. Despaired over to a local cafe/bar to await lift home and felt sure the universe was having a laugh at my expense when the menu read:

"wide range of deserts available"

Even sent midnight written note to host of event, Poetry Ireland, to apologize for the disruption. Only to learn that in fact, we were fine. Someone else was causing a ruckus that did give host reason for frustrated look. But 'twasn't us. Lesson: Toddlers can attend poetry readings, given stickers and puzzles. And mothers can lose their minds, given inherent paranoia, and still be welcomed back.

Anywho, got to see many fine readers. Braved event to hear Medbh McGuckian. Most excellent gentle yet highly present reader. More than one ahhhhh! Her work seems quite ellipitical on the page, even difficult to follow at times, difficult like walking along the beach dunes difficult, lovely difficult. But hearing her read them aloud, the sense of difficulty gives way to an evocative ease.

Herself giving out from highchair. Back to Mom.