A few days ago I sat next to Eiléan Ni Chuilleanáin, who was described on Wikipedia or maybe somewhere else as one of the most famous Irish poets. As you would have expected it from a female irish poet, her hair reached at least to the seat of the chair she sat on. (By the way her hair was not red, just in case you would have expected also this feature from a female irish poet.) I remember one of her poetic pictures, children being thrown in language like in cold water. Later, in the discussion, one of the guests made a political comment about it. How the prohibition of speaking the own language was used as a weapon and – his voice became louder – could even kill people. I guess it had nothing to do with the poem, but some time ago I read somewhere, in every public lecture with following discussion there was this man who would talk und talk unless the organizer would stop him. The incessantly talking man was asked to translate his comment in italian language as most of the people were italians. A good idea: the man suddenly was quiet. The Greek poet Titos Patrikos is far more than 80 years old, but his eyes were shining bright, as he quoted another poet, who said, it was no problem to repeat one and the same thought in all the poems one writes as the poet thus would succeed in expressing more profoundly. Unfortunately I forgot the name of this intelligent poet, and I had no opportunity to ask Titos Patrikos later. So @ Titos Patrikos: if you read this, I would be pleased if you could make a comment and leave the name of that poet. Don´t worry: No one but Manafonistas will be able to read your e-mail-adress. I said I was grateful to Titos´remark as I had recognized all my poems circled around one theme: disappearance. (I never planned it and fortunalety it is not my job to analyze it.) And this, dear campfire friends, may be the main reason why I love the work of Labradford and the voice of Mark Nelson so much. Although very often it does not matter what someone says, but how, I especially love track No. 3 (PICO) from the album “Labradford” (1992) and the way Mark Nelson is whispering (not really singing) some words which sound like “somewhere alone / the light, street corners, city blocks, apartments abandoned to their drift“. And although I would love it to read the complete lyrics it is not really necessary as one can feel every single word.
