Sixpenz Reading
It was raining so hard last night, an umbrella was needed, something unusual in
Colorado, as we walked around the corner and into the Innesfree Bookstore, on the
“Hill”. There was a reading by Sixpenz. The “z” for the dog always under one womanʼs
foot.
Words began flowing in and around the gray headed and students, some sitting around
tiny tables, some standing in the tight space. One woman after another read until the
entire room was awash in a movie of thoughts, images and ambience.
Sometimes the words, so deftly knitted together, that what remained after the voice
ended, resembled a finely woven tweed cloth draped, fluttering in the wind. Other times
vivid images of a womanʼs body curves caressed by a sheet still imprint on my eyes as
bright as her blue-green shirt. A wild turkey trotting alongside a biker pecking the bare
leg of his owner kicking back from his bike, was not only comic, every annoying peck on
the struggling biker trudging up the mountain, it was felt on my skin as well. I was taken
to foreign street scenes, red nail polish, a hand on a glass, was reminded we donʼt need
“saving”, that saintly mothers guide us, and we donʼt know who we think we know, after
all. Lastly, that the weak lay down until the strong rise up again.
The focused, hushed atmosphere accentuated the experience of the spoken word. Last
night every reading was articulately presented. I left refreshed, swept along by voices of
lives living their feminine journey. Christy, seated next to me and a newly transplanted
Boulder woman, so excited by the group, she wanted to join on the spot.
Ann Griffin
9/22/11
No comments:
Post a Comment