Alberto reporting from space...

Photos: Julien, Helen, the Public.

SpokenWord crowded night and the theme was “Space”.
Sarah stole a kiss in a crowded disco, Gèno in francais: “Je vous ecris d’un autre planete”, Marty started with: I'd heard about this thing: Smoke chuffing away like liberty. Blocks none of the blank panes. Claudia was amazing, they told me, but I was outside adding other poets on the list, Michele read a poem about the first time he had sex in the vineyard, I don’t remember if alone or not, David for the first time was free to enjoy the night as a full time poet and came up with two cosmopoems and an outcast star. The featured poet of the night was Antonia Klimenko, slam champion from San Francisco, and you can watch down here an excerpt about her stunning performance. John, who created a very interactive piece with the audience playing with the word space, followed by Bruce, just arrived from the World Cup of Petanque, with a poem-song that has a refrain like: “Your helmet, gentleman, your helmet”, Nancy said that all her poems are about space, and this one was about time and space: Heart is the clock of creation./ Time is clock, time is money, this has to stop cause it’s not funny!” Alberto read “Dwell on the moles on your girlfriend’s body, observe them by night like constellations”, and Jonathan closed our first half in a standing ovation. (And I don’t think that was because of the break). Sally opened the second round reciting: “I still love the lover I didn’t meet.” And Yara sang she still love Johnny. Daen read three poems, inspired by Wendy Cope and Martin Newett, listing “101 ways why he is David Bowie and you’re not”, and a multivoiced Charlie “in space anything is possible”, Antonia Klimenko was on our stage for the second part of her reading, and we have a second video, Betty rocked the house with a song-heartbeat-poem in which all the public participated. With Rufo “Will Coyote will fall forever”, Will “The night seems like a stranger”, Helen O’Keefe with the pseudonym of “Ukulhelen” played with her Ukulele a Russian tune in honour of Yuri Gagarin, the first man in outer space, overheating our secret Russian audience, Bruce came back to affirm “I’ve got a dirty brain and a dirty mouth, assholes!”, and Kelly with a sweet poem for her scracth-pad, Michele invited everybody to follow him in his psichedelic trips, Nancy II, David to close and invite everybody back on Novembre 2 for the next episode, but, hold on, the real end was Julien, Culture Rapide’s bartender who left his station and came up to read his stuff, reminding everybody that he’s a poet, too.

Report from 5th October "Machines"

Charlie was on a blind journey. Rufo had a day at the zoo watching the machines-for-existing. The myth of smoothness dropped horribly into a pail. Gèno was crazy-obsessed with a machine à sous (one armed bandit? fruit machine?). Il a mit tout sa confiance en elle. I'd completely overlooked that in French machine is feminine, a missed opportunity for a poem there.
Susannah was a bad cat mother, shouldn't be who she is. Ooog went fisting for your love. Yes, I do mean fisting. Rod Tame brought Saturday night from Deansgate, Manchester. The hangover endures on Unreality TV. Dominic Berry spoke of la machine humaine et la puissance des haricots. The stablisers taken from his bicycle, he feasted on speed. Thérèse brought une petite machine pour faire la cuisine. Jonathan's library books were scratched with other people's clichés. He found that there's pleasure in thinking what's been thought before. In retrospect, he admitted the poetry was a mistake. Memory is a machine that lies. When the vodka failed, he scalped her cat. Jason wondered whether, maybe, all we need is to watch TV together. Bruce brought Earth, Wind & Amplifier. A story shorter than the rope around his neck. Dorry Funaki read Edna St Vincent Millay's Renaissance. Nina told of the New York Machine. Pia had that soap-induced feeling of being clean, and a permanent cigarette. Daen had too many hairdressers. And the Devil's own nightsoil. (Any chance of a copy, Daen?) I was at 17 Poisoner's Row. For Peter, feeling is a human error. Kezia was tied to the moon; friable. Francesca remembers the day you ripped up her poems. Alberto slipped memories into the mouths of fish. Quite one of Alberto's most beautiful lines yet, I think. Charlie read The Tortured Artist's Rant/This Guy Needs Therapy. Bruce had a chainsaw in his throat; tatooed letters.

Thanks to all who came.

Next SpokenWord Monday October 19th
Theme: Space/l'espace