Writers gathered in the colorfully cluttered Lockerbie Coffeehouse read from single sheets of lined paper folded up in blue jean pockets. Or from handwritten journals they pull from their purses or packs. Here a bespectacled man in long shorts but with a spiked leather collar shouts a poem about strip bars. I witness both these scenes by way of trying to find out what sort of community exists for writers in Indianapolis. The answers come first at the Corner Wine Bar in Broad Ripple.
People are dressed nicely, the warm room is clean and neat with scented candles burning.
There is beer on tap and a microphone plugged in up front. But structure doesn't spoil things. Gaar Scott, a poet and pastel artist, moved here from Fort Wayne six years ago. It seems to me that every type of poet has been able to find a niche in Indianapolis. All sorts of work bounce around the basement in Broad Ripple.