It’s Friday night and the kids are alright. There are seven musicians once again upon the stage. We four poets from three continents take our positions and read our works to music. The roof blows off the packed venue and the stars fall in.
All the performers are at the top of their game. The audience is alert and listening to each flex of vocal chords, each twist of a metaphor, each pause. The musicians are loving every single minute of it, and so am I. Makes you feel alive. Makes you feel that it’s
all worth while. Makes you get to know why the world goes round. Cause whatever is built that makes it spin, that makes it work, natural creative force is the fuel. In its purest form that creative force is art.