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"Poetry Harbor" Open Mike Night, Duluth, MN:

On the afternoon of Tuesday, May 23, 2000 Inkwell members, Marianne Jones, Rick Three and Richard Pepper drove down to Duluth, MN in order to participate in an open mike night put on by "Poetry Harbor" [sic.] a Minnesota Public Broadcasting show. We left Thunder Bay c. 14:00 EDST, giving us plenty of time to have coffee in Two Harbors, get lost in Duluth, read amusing badges in "The Electric Fetus", eat Mexican food, walk the boardwalk and then follow a bongo player into the venue, the Norshore Theater [sic.].

We were welcomed as special guests from Canada and each of us was given time to read from our works. I read "My Second Greatest Fear" and sang "'69 - '74". I suppose that song will now be getting its broadcast premiere soon. That makes me feel a bit funny; I don't suppose any BB cast or crew members watch Minnesota PBS, though.

Marianne was able to sell a couple of her poetry books, highway 17, for six dollars (American! Woo hoo!).

Unfortunately, we had to leave before the event was often in order to drive back to Thunder Bay. We certainly thank Poetry Harbor for making us welcome and their audience for their appreciative attention. We hope to return some day.

Lakehead University Model U.N.'s Coffeehouse, Sun. Feb. 27/00:

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Inkwell member, Andrea Shalay, organized a fundraising coffeehouse for the LU Model UN to which she belongs and invited us to participate. I sang four songs ("Salome", "Peter Hart", "Underneath This Tree" and "Integrity/Agnus Dei"). Between these songs Marianne Jones, Andrea, Jenny Abell and Rick Three read some of their works. Jenny and Rick had to take turns serving the coffee while the other read, since they both work at the Great Northwest Coffee Co. where this was held. After our readings there were other events including a "Macho Man" contest--which I won. (Yes, there were four other contestants!)

Rob Linke of "The Chronicle Journal" took some pictures to accompany the article by Peter Fergus-Moore published March 2, 2000.

Review: "Enjoyed the coffeehouse." (My mother)

Usually my contributions to Inkwell gatherings are musical, but here are a couple of samples of my postcard stories:

"How could I run out of them?" Hank wondered. "There must be at least one left in here somewhere." But no, despite a few more minutes of frantic searching in the drawer, Hank could find only a couple of grooms left and not a single bride. He had to find one soon; the cake would be picked up in ten minutes! He'd searched his whole bakery. He went into the back where he and his wife and Hank Jr. lived. Maybe there was one in kitchen junk drawer-but no luck. He stepped into the living room. What a mess! Hank Jr.'s toys were everywhere. "Marion!" he yelled. "Get little Hank to clean up this mess. 'Ello. What's this?"

It was a beautiful wedding. As usual, all eyes were on the bride in her loveliness on this her special day. Perhaps that's why no one among the guests questioned why the little plastic man in a tuxedo was getting married to Princess Leia.

The magician held out the deck of cards. "Take a card. Any card." The volunteer took a card and looked at it. "Now please put the card back anywhere in the deck." The magician instructed. The volunteer complied. "Now I will shuffle - oops!" All the cards spilled out and onto the floor. The volunteer and the magician crawled about and found the cards. "No, wait." the magician spoke. "There's a card missing. It's under the couch." The volunteer looked under the couch and there was indeed a card there. "And it's the card you chose!" the magician announced.

Well, it wasn't. But the magician was six years old and it was bedtime.

So I was amazed.

Here's another of my postcard stories.
Hey, fellow Inkies: I could post your stuff here if you'd like. Giving/sending me a digital copy would be the most convenient. At this point I can handle only simple formatting and so visual poetry would be too tricky for me. Sorry.

Visit another charter member: Marianne Jones.

Here's a poem of mine:

At last, a tiny well of emotion for my pen,
Poisoned, yes, by my old companion,
But comforting in its familiarity.
Distance was always safe;
Proximity is terrifying
But invigorating.

Beware the daydream dogs
Who growl and grip my mind,
Dragging me into pleasant inaction.

Discretion is the best excuse of cowardice.
It is the drool of my obedience school
When my bell is rung.

I am a harmonious hypocrite.
I sing feebly of dangerous fear
But choke on it myself by choice.

But you
You have nothing to fear.
How can you pass by unnoticed
As you dance and sing?

But in my night-dreams
I sing as well
From below the heart,
Beyond the diaphragm,
With abandonment,
With raging joy,
With tears and a sweet, sweet ache.

Here's another.
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Last Update: May 9, 2004

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