Before Pete and the boys would launch into a rendition of “Tommy”, Moon would tap the side of his snare like a conductor and Pete would say to the audience, assemble the musicians. Then, The Overture, The Acid Queen, See Me Feel Me, and the rest would be history.


That sound you hear, under the inaudible drift of April’s final flurries, is the sound of a dozen plus Poets Laureate tapping their snares, straightening their collars, ironing their frocks, warming up their reading voices, and making their ways to Edmonton.

Will there be drama? Will you see Laureates marching on city hall? Will there be any fireworks? Any he said/she said Twitter-worthy gossip? A poetic scandal? Maybe even a high-noon standoff? Perhaps, but the drama is more likely to come from considered conversation and provocative words.

A couple of items, for your observance: