The day after the Dundalk gathering I was asked
“now that the dust has settled, how do you feel?”
Settled you say ? We must never allow the dust to settle, never allow any dust to settle or stagnate, keep it animated for a fine layer of dust is crucial in the maintaining of momentum and the inducing of flow.
I spent St Patrick’s day ensconced in my Marino Outpost, reading a War Poets anthology gifted to me during the previous melee and drinking tar like tea. I didn’t leave the house, I’d misplaced my suit of armor and canister of Valium.

Then came the second stop of the tour, Dolan’s in Limerick and a room I’d frequented last year with four heads from Cavan.
I was greeted inside the door by three leather cladded chancers who immediately took a disliking to my north Louth hair or Clark’s shoes or something.
Within a Bavarian Brass band’s AGM was seemingly being held.
I empathized with any poor bowsie in for the hair of the dog, in fairness they were a jovial crew in spite of insisting on not believing my long haired companion from New York when he informed them that his name was indeed Kevin & not Jesus.

Upstairs to the gig, my first Limerick solo appearance.
The room was full, the audience welcoming and receptive.
Candles adorned every table the only other light was a spotlight on myself and so all I could see from the middle row onwards were hands on tables, illuminated by candlelight.
It reminded me of the snooker halls as a kid, pooling money and dreams under dim lights on green tables.

You took to me Limerick, and I to you, you embraced the cold and embraced the happening.

Dolan’s I thank you, an eventful experience.
My love to Synead Twomey for joining me on the night, continue to express and explore.

Onwards towards the Fjords!
Waterford next,

David X