Our shearer and young emerging poet Ian McRae took a big step on behalf of his poetry last night by attending the Cambridge Poetry Club’s monthly meeting at the Battenkill Bookstore (host of many of my book readings).

Ian looked like a ghost, pale, paralyzed, and almost in shock. But when the moment came, he rose to it and read this new poem of his; it’s called “Doom Music,” and it’s a poem for our times.

“finger tremble on electric variac of doom: what is not to be for damnation.

alien explorer, penny fuse observer tastes of etherial midwives of rockplanet

waves of Sunbugs: Sunbugs: Sunbugs:

All the world

sun bugs in an ocean of ivory,

latin concrete cradled conqueror

Sunbig crawling from empire.

Sunbugs are wiring,a know all-way full power fingertips crackle,  fried sizzled,  eaten powdered.

good home for emperor Sunbugs.”

-Ian McRae

___

Ian showed up in a suit (sort of), saying he had shed the skinhead look and had grown a full head of hair. He had a whole new look.

He was all spiffedup.

We got pizza from our new wood-fired pizza card and ate together before heading to the bookstore. Ian realized he had left the lights on as we left, and his car battery was dead.

Maria rushed to get her battery cables, and she got his car started in five minutes.

The poetry group was talented, open, and generous. They welcomed Ian, asked him questions about his poems, and asked him to reread them.

Ian looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. But he never wavered.

He read two poems quietly and with his head down, but afterward, he looked so drained  I patted him on the back and said goodnight.

I underestimated how strange and vulnerable he might feel.

I was very proud of him, though, and happy for him. This reading was several years in the making. And he said it meant a lot to him.

I was worried that I had pushed him too hard or too soon; he just seemed stunned. We started messaging one another.

“No, man, that’s on me, and it wasn’t you if you’re talking about the reading. I have trouble with big steps in life, and that was a big one.”

It was a big one, and I admired him for getting through it. He said he wants to do it again next month.

He invited me to his Granville apartment for dinner,  but we decided to go to the new Laotian restaurant in Schuylervi instead.

We agreed we needed to get to know each other better.

I’m going to pick the date.

I was excited for Ian. I know he wants this badly.

He is very talented and eager to continue writing poetry, reading it aloud, and sharing it with other poets.

I’m not going to push him, he knows how I feel, and it’s time for me to cheer from the sidelines and be there when he needs me and asks for help if he needs help.

We are, I think, good for one another and good friends.

The world could use another gifted and committed poet. I think they got one last night.