Creative Corona: Day 19

In a short excerpt from his new novel, Arts Council/UCC Writer-in-Residence Danny Denton depicts a Cork social world that seems very exotic in the midst of lockdown, while MA graduate Christine Kannapel considers the fugitive beauty of ravens. 

 from:  The Undiscover’d Country: An Echo Chorus

The Friday night Friary crowd arrived intermittently, flotsam delivered by the tide, each arrival announced by the banging of the door. Out of the buses they came, and out of the taxis and the lifts, and after brisk walks, with smiles, with keys and coins jingled in pockets, bags unhooked from shoulders. So careful with those early pints, gathered up in twos and threes.  Come midnight, only the nearer faces were clear. Jolly heads and shoulders bobbing. The loveliest kind of yellow light. Hands held. Arms draped. Wonder of the pint. Wonder of the deranged posters on the walls. Voices unravelling many spools of tales all at once, the palaver chewing and consuming and digesting and regurgitating itself. The selves unfolding. It didn’t matter what you said. Hours sinking in the watch. Deep hearty laughter. Jolly place. Waiting for Mike’s attention for ages. Random conversations, strange people: students; gamblers; the Apple crowd; that musician, that rapper dude; the swing crowd; the Icelandics with their Mohicans; the rugby-mad postman; the gamer; Toe Head; the taxi man; that African busker; yer wan with the art studio above in the Firkin Crane; Sheffield Chris who did the quiz of a Wednesday; that Traveller lady who was always about the place; four heart attacks right there; a campaigner there; lonely, they said; couldn’t even kill himself right, they said;  hiya, John! hey, June!; transformed groceries was all they all were; pasta and muesli converted; plans and problems; outrages…; no shocks here though; all was punditry; punditry was all; stories of the guards; voices in the void, repeating what they heard on the radio and on the television and on the web; no phrase so terrible as the beef industry; the match; the world put to rights; yes; yes; ho-hum; hey-ho; ahwell; herenow; gowan; gluck; goway; buck up; your hole; me hole; upoutofit; that could be us, Marta, that could be us; don’t be so dramatic, Lou; please, let the bombs start falling now!; tell no-one, even now; even now; say nathin’; not a word of boasting; not one to gloat; share the luck, I say; share the news; not one to boast; not one to gossip; not one to walk away; not one to give in; not one to take shit; not one to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong; not one to talk out of place; not one for the dogs; not one for bold statements; not one for doing; I love you; I know you do; do you not think about the future? what it might be like?; I think the world is going to hell; I think I’ll go for a run tomorrow; exit all, eventually, all ghosts, to leave Mike counting the cash, busting for that second-last fag.

Danny Denton

Tower Ravens

So black they’re blue
streaked in summer light,
I see why

a photographer
narrows into their perch.

Why do they fly away
when I too want to capture
them—to see my reflection

on their moon shine
feathers, my eyes
beads in theirs.

Christine Kannapel

TOMORROW: “May the Bells Sound: Spring 2020″by Alison McCrossan and “Let the Chips Fall where they may” by Irene Halpin Long