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