I went to a poetry reading at the Idoru wine bar last weekend. It was the first of a new series called Candle Lit Readings.
aside:
It's actually called CANdle LIT Readings, wearing it's Canadian literature bias on its sleeve. Not that it has a sleeve. I'm just saying, you know, if it did. Have a sleeve. Oh, shut up.
end of aside
As with many (by "many" I mean "most," and by "most" I mean "all") poetry readings this wasn't a venue for discovering the next Coleridge. Or even the next Johnny Limerick-Seed.
There were two readers. One hurt my ears. The other delivered a passable free verse set without too much of the Free Verse Monotone that typically plagues these events. In all, I wouldn't say that Vogons came to mind but that may have only been because there wasn't an airlock handy.
Idoru was an excellent venue. I had a duck pannini that was fantastic. I'd go back.
In point of fact, I know I'll go back. I plan to return to the next of these CANdle LiT ThiNGs on March 7. In place of a pair of dissonant poets there will be a staging of Plato's Symposium. An inspired choice of material, methinks. I'll be there will bells on.
Not literally. Probably.
