A few years ago, pre-covid, I met Jon Freeland. It
felt, at the time, like the many pleasant interactions I've had
over thirty-odd years of being in the bar business. I tend to
magnetically attach myself to creative people, regardless of
the actual discipline.
Jon was one of those humans, and remains one
of those humans. Again, I come from live music club
bartending. I also come from the Republic of Ireland, Cork
City to be specific, class of '87, Donnelly visa, 12 years old.
I grew up on punk rock, bards, storytellers,
troubadours, actors, playwrights, musicians, singers, and of
course poets. So a very natural, organic, common goal of
simply reading poetry was an easy endeavor.
The day I met Jon, I immediately called my friend
and mentor, Allen Tatman. Allen and I are brothers in mouth
bullets, and tales of yore. I remember specifically reading a
draft of a book Allen had written when I used to work for
him and his lovely wife, Marilee, who is also a trusted mentor.
I told him about my chat with Jon and...
BOOM!
Contact!
This feels good.
So once a month, on an otherwise lonely and
sleepy Monday night in the fair city of Jefferson, in the
great stateof Missouri, "Single Pot Still Poets Society"
was birthed. What follows is our club's first attempt at a
collective publication.
I love these people and I want to thank them
for our "monthly sessions." Paddy Malone's Irish Pub &
Gumbo Bottoms Alehaus proudly present Volume 1: A
Drop of the Pure
Slainte,
Padrigh Stiofan
