Letting evil Win – By Daniel Waldman

                Daniel Waldman drank poetically during his reading. Wearing a stylish hat he actively engaged the audience. Not only did he have this stylish hat but a striped business casual shirt. Had I seen him walking down the street I might have mistaken him for an accountant or actuary. Good thing he picked poetry over the emptiness of numbers. Poetry has become business casual with Daniel Waldman’s attire. As a result I may never do an ustream. This tendency for proper attire could be a ‘Canadian’ thing though. Once he comes back to the states that could all change.

                Jennifer Chen’s work got read. Apparently she writes really short bursts of poetry. The two were friends in real life. Usually people have their poetry read when they don’t know of each other in reality. Normally they know of each other only through various Gmail chats or some form of internet presence (either twitter or Facebook).

                A man named Ben had his website read. He writes strange notes on blogspot or perhaps they are poetry, I’m not entirely sure. I’d like to know more about him but he appears to be something of an enigmatic figure on the internet. Besides, doing a basic Google search appears to turn up nothing, due to Google’s annoying habit of re-spelling.  

                “Come in from the Cold” by James Duncan came up. This was a twisted poem. Apparently this was about trying to enter a club house. Daniel used a good, forceful, near shouting delivery to this poem. Considering the content of this poem, the frantic delivery seemed completely appropriate. 

                Joy ensued with “Walnut Horse” by Danny Stewart. I liked the repetition of the single line “Don’t worry Mom”. Daniel appeared to be familiar with the joys of looping and allowed the distortion of the same phrase to build up the poem. After a while it sounded less like language and more like music. This was the intention. 

                Once someone had asked him to tell him about his childhood, we felt his true vulnerability. While he began discussing a spiral staircase he suddenly stopped. It was up to us to piece together this life story. The cliff hanger ending to the story made us wonder even more: Where did he get that hat? Did the hat’s presence signify something perhaps deeper than mere style?

                Keiji Haino got a request by Axem another mysterious online entity. Since Axem and Ben are mysterious online entities, it’d make sense they would be responsible for a lot of the poetry requests. For Keiji’s work, there was a great deal of looping words and phrases. Daniel’s delivery for repeating phrases worked.

                Ryan Manning’s “Cupid” was read by Daniel as he lay on his bed. By now thoroughly intoxicated and laying down he read it quickly as it was short. Mr. Butler had one of his poems read as well, but I missed part of it due to the lousy ads ruining the ustream experience. Thankfully the poetry I did hear later by Butler ended up being excellent, especially his “Zelda 64” news from 1999. It’s weird that parts of the internet are so old, or how far we’ve come. Somehow that earlier incarnation of the internet, even with a worse interface, felt more naïve, more lovable. Perhaps someday this very site might be considered ‘nostalgic’ or classic’. Think GeoCities. 

Due to ustream’s ads I ended up missing parts of the reading. Ustream needed money. That was clear. I mean, I wasn’t going to pay for it. I have no money. According to the advertisements, NBC will have a particularly crummy lineup for the next television season. Good thing I don’t watch NBC or TV anymore now that the internet is infinitely entertaining.

                For the end we got to watch him dance around to the same song (by Michael McDonald) he began with coming full circle. Wearing a mask, showing off his dance moves, he showed he is the embodiment of a ‘joker’. I know we let evil win.

Beach Ustream

                Jacob Steinberg and Spencer Madsen came together one Sunday night for poetry. Usually Sunday nights are dedicated to football. Poetry is better than football. Fuck football. On June 19^th we had the explicit pleasure of witnessing this New York duo read online. Jupiter, Florida was their location, specifically a house roughly six miles away from the beach. To make the occasion even more special Spencer quit his job in a dramatic fashion and high-tailed it down to Steinberg’s house. You know, because poetry ought to be this dramatic, especially on the beach. 

                Beach Poetry could become a possible genre. Spencer Madsen wrote poems on the beach, making them ‘beach poetry’ or, as Frank Hinton put it ‘shoretry’. As Spencer spent a great deal of time in Florida, he overheard children’s conversations. Florida conversations by children tend to be a bit ridiculous. Somehow the mixture of tacky culture alongside a lack of any intellectual rigor (as per Spencer, nobody cares about art in Miami) makes it one of the wealthiest pieces of trash in the entire country if not the world. 

                I like how Spencer and Jacob tore apart Miami artists. That was fantastic. Each one completed the other’s thought about the sheer uselessness of the artists there, particularly one such idiot who wanted to call his gallery “Formalism” as he thought that would be the most radical name for it. Personally I’m amazed artists even live in Miami. Usually I figure artists move to Miami, no actual art originates from that location. How both Spencer and Jacob manage to survive in such a hostile, difficult, and stupid environment is beyond me. At least those mediocre artists paid for this duo’s sushi. So they had some value: transferring money to worthy poets. 

                Spencer read a poem from “Let People Poems”. He welcomed us to his poem. After we had been brought into the poem’s space, he began. I’m a big fan of Let People Poems. Reading about a sad human feels realistic. What I hope is someday Spencer finds ‘true love’. Or at the very least that he gets to ride his bike with someone sweet. 

                “Porn” Jackson Nieuwland’s chapbook received attention. For his poem Jackson focused on the importance of cuddling. Cuddling is a lost art form. As Jackson often focuses on the fantastic-ness of the world this feels like a logical place for him to explore. I’m amazed he managed to send his chapbook all the way to Mr. Steinberg’s address in Florida. Guess porn moves quickly. Jacob read it with his characteristic swag. As a bonus, he read his poems on “NewWaveVomit” as well. That was not all he needed to let out.

                Upon Jacob showing off his pink underwear and one rib, Spencer began reading. They had a ‘relay race’ poetry reading. “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men” interested Spencer. As these were small pieces it fit in nicely to the poetry selections. David Foster Wallace wrote this book, a collection of 23 short stories. I miss him and feel a bit strange that “The Pale King” even got published as it is a bit of an ‘incomplete’ book of his. 

                I liked the focus on Julio Cortazar. Jacob translated these poems along with reading them. Apparently no one has bothered to translate his work into English, or precious little of it. Both Jacob Steinberg and Stephen Tully Dierks happen to be huge fans of this writer. Hopefully I can find more of it at some point, it is fantastic. 

                To show they were open to more experimental forms of prose they read “TLC’s” song “Waterfalls”. Or rather, Jacob did not read this, he felt it. I remember where I was when I first heard “Waterfalls”. For me, this song spoke volumes to me. Grade school suddenly became comprehensible with the help of this magnificent group. Suddenly everything in my life gained meaning thanks to TLC and this song in particular. 

                “Thought Catalog” came up. Spencer read his rejected article. “How to want to quit your Job” was the name of his article. In it he described in vivid detail about the dread of facing your job. Each bit mentioned the alarm clock, shower, train, bus, and thinking about the difference between you at home versus you at your workplace. Hearing him mention the tiniest of details convinces me people may be interested in the anguish of a workplace. Somehow I made it through five years with trepidation about such uncomfortable conversations with bosses.  

                Spencer will be coming out with a book. 95% of everything he’s ever written on the internet shall be removed. All of a sudden he’ll restart his brand (known as ‘rebranding’ by Impossible Mike) and become a new internet person. I think this is great idea. The book (entitled ‘A Million Bears’) will bring Spencer Madsen the poetry groupies he’s always wanted. 

                Carolyn DeCarlo had her poem read. This gets extremely explicit. While I’d like to explain what happens in the poem, I don’t want to ruin it. Details help build the scene and contribute to the mood of the poem. Eventually the focus shifts away from the individual’s perspective on pleasure to helping others. 

                “Goldfish” talked about the stupidity of fish. Jacob thought the Goldfish had it easy. They don’t remember anything. Instead of engaging or remembering things they manage to live in the moment, not experiencing pain. Love can copy this fleeting moment. Having these intense emotions means you often forget about the past and hope for the best future. 

                We watched as Spencer and Jacob bore their very souls at the end. Seeing the two of them bond at the end helped me understand how important words can be. These two were brought together by a love of the word. Now I hope to see them do future ustreams as this unstoppable poetic force. Perhaps they might even bring some semblance of intelligence to the most vapid state in the union but that may be asking too much.

Pop Serial and NewWaveVomit: Together at last

                Stephen Tully Dierks and Ana Carrete are aware of most, if not all, online poetry happenings. By law they must be. Pop Serial is S T to the D’s baby. NewWaveVomit, Ana C’s testament to ‘anything you need to let out’ used to be a member of the Talking Heads. Growing tired of all the partying, drugs, and literal vomit, NewWaveVomit settled down to focus on poetry over the past year. Eventually NewWaveVomit managed to transform itself into a website and gave control over to Ana after she found a gold ticket in her bar of chocolate. It helps that Ana is an accomplished poet. Go here to learn more about her.

                I eagerly awaited this meeting of the internet poetry powerhouses. Unlike countless other forms of media, I feel there hasn’t been a ‘poetry beef’ before between different parts of the country. By having this reading together Stephen and Ana prevented any ‘drive-by flarfings’ from occurring. They knew how much was not on the line here. Good thing they took the entire reading with seriousness more often associated with playgrounds or high-end bars than actual poetry readings. 

                We got thrown into the middle of things. Several people were walking. The chat watched as Stephen, Steve Roggenbuck, Ana Carrete, and Mike Kitchell along with other people walked around America’s heartland, Chicago, IL. I think other people might have been around. Really I couldn’t tell. Quickly everyone began making plans for pulling out ID cards to show they were ‘of age’ to purchase and consume alcoholic beverages. Steve referred to it as ‘carding hard’. Unfortunately we saw things only from a sideways angle. All I saw from a straightforward angle was a picture of a young Roggenbuck. Finally I can honestly say I’ve seen a picture of an artist as a young man. 

                “Congratulations you’ve arrived” some mysterious voice announced as they arrived at the poetry reading. Then we were treated to some shoegaze as in literally looking at people’s shoes. For an indefinite period of time we heard random conversations. Someone stated “That’s a bad angle. I think some of your viewers are going to get seasick” to which Stephen eloquently replied “Meh” or another equally innocuous response. 

                Ustream did not care for the venue they choose. We knew because of its frequent crashes. Towards the end of the week I tend to feel a bit tired, forlorn, and ready to call it a week. So I can’t be entirely angry at the liberal elitist social media. Perhaps it too got on a few uncomfortable conference calls during the week. It acted a bit too human for me. Negativity began to drag it down.

                A poll came up. Without asking a question, it reaffirmed the positive. The poll didn’t even ask a question. Roggenbuck set up the poll knowing we’d answer ‘yes’ since we are his positive pals. Everyone in the chat knew how important this ustream would be. Never before had all these literary icons come together in the same place in real life. We were extremely excited about this event. So did the audience who clapped and screamed “woo” at Stephen Tully Dierk’s announcement.

                Mike Kitchell (Impossible Mike) came up on stage. Wearing his trademarked white framed glasses (part of his ‘rebranding’ strategy) he began the session forcefully. Each time I heard a slight delay in the ustream recording I thought no. Apparently the technology heard my plea and came back. For me I liked the repetition of the square. The square was my favorite part of the poem. 

                Andrew James Weatherhead continued at great pace reading poems about Astoria, Basketball, and bits from the Economist magazine. Halfway into his own reading, he decided to engage the audience. Suddenly he put down the papers and began to talk. What it did was turn the reading into a conversation. Using this approach, he ruined any chance of hecklers to try and wreak the reading. Instead people began to find poetry a bit more approachable.

                Right as everyone in the room was about to feel that magical charge, the charge you get when you finally understand art, when poets and non-poets come together into a big circle and sing around the campfire, it ended. Steve’s phone battery died. I guess a phone can only handle so much poetry ustreaming before it thinks to itself “This is intense. I better go into sleep mode and contemplate my existence.” That’s what the phone did, I’m absolutely positive. 

                Everything might have been fantastic!

Goth Chat

                Goths hosted Ustream. Johnny Vulpine invited us into his humble home. I hadn’t spoken to Johnny Vulpine much excluding wanting ice cream I saw him eat once. That ice cream looked amazing. Days later I still wish I had that delicious ice cream cone.

                Johnny Vulpine partied in front of us. Years have passed since I’ve been involved in the Goth culture. I wondered if it had changed since I had been involved with it nearly a decade ago. My most recent interaction with Goths was during another Presidential administration. How much really had changed in Goth culture since George W. Bush left office? Watching the reading I found out. 

                The delivery of Johnny’s poetry was halting. I liked it. He didn’t make anything fancy. You had only the pure language to understand. Haikus happened to be his mode of expressing himself. At the end of each one he had to state “That’s it” with his disarming charm. Since I watched it already tired from a weekend of hugging people I matched up well with Johnny’s energy level. 

                Two people (Amber French and Shayla Riggs) wrote material in a humorous vein. Every poem was absurd and silly. “If I were a cat I would lovingly leave poop in your shoes every morning”.  That ended up being my favorite and most representative of this small series. 

                Joe Randall read his poetry. I’ve never read him before. “Spears fly into our simple heads.” That line sort of jumped, or flew, at me. Most of his lines were rather dark. Among the other items involved hellfire and doom. Most of my day had seen little to no sunlight due to rainstorms. Thus, Joe’s work felt appropriate. 

                Ellen was my favorite. Her delivery worked well. Plus, she had knowledge about ustream and interacted with us, mere ustreamers. Despite the background of drunken revelry she stayed focused, on point. She invited us to add her as a friend on Facebook expanding the massive online poetry community. At some point I hope we have enough people for a village, for a town, and eventually principality. 

                Out of the light came Shayla once again. She delivered a great poem and expressed joy. After she left we had this amazing reader. He wore silver chains since he appeared to be a ‘Poetry Gangster’ revered up in New Hampshire. Though he had the longest poem he managed to keep a certain flow. It sounded like a rap in terms of the quickness of the lines. Each one flowed into the other. 

                People performed a piece with a guitar. I felt happy. Suddenly all my time in college didn’t feel wasted. One held a guitar. The other held a Ukulele. No other ustream ever had married poetry to music. I do both on here. I’m glad others have found this wonderful marriage of the two forms. Hopefully this will become a common feature of all ustream poetry readings.

                “This is what every day is like at Barnard.” is what Spencer Madsen said. Due to Spencer’s location in New York, only he and I actually laughed. All the girls in the building came together and began singing. Only a ukulele and guitar accompanied them. I’m not familiar with what they sang. I do know that they have perhaps more familiarity with singing than I have (I got kicked out of chorus for not singing enough). 

                 Poetry is unstructured. I liked this reading for that reason. By having a loose configuration they made it unexpected and exciting. Truly this was fantastic.

Cut your Hair

                People came from all over the world to see Stephen Tully Dierks get his hair cut on ustream. I hoped for the best. The audience worried a little bit. Most poets have to cut their hair on their own due to financial problems. By having friends cut your hair you save money, money which can be used for food, shelter, and two pairs of jeans. 

                “We will find a Way” by Poncho Peligroso got read by Stephen Tully Dierks. This was posted June 8^th. I consider this the fastest you can get your poetry read. Published in the morning and read late at night is a pretty quick turn-around. Most publishers couldn’t pull this off. Poncho is no ordinary poet; he is the 2011 Poet Laureate for a reason. Stephen began the reading strongly with Poncho’s hot-off-the-presses poem. 

                Steve Roggenbuck focused on Ron Silliman. Ron is a poet who has written twenty books which are part of a total poem called “Ketjak”. This has become his life work. Beginning in the 70s to today his life’s work is massive. You can’t really understand how massive it truly is to have so much material working with itself. I can see why Steve enjoys Ron’s work. The idea of a “Memeplex” where countless ideas are brought to work for one great purpose is something Steve’s mentioned on his blog before. I hope that Steve is able to create his ‘master work’ as he’s on something of a ‘roll’ lately. 

                “I worship Satan” was written by Sam Pink. As Stephen got his hair cut he multi-tasked with reading. Being a Satan worshiper allows you unlimited amounts of free blood. Sam Pink writes positive poetry about imagining his brutal death. Brutal death is funny according to Mr. Pink.  “Frowns Need Friends Too” is the name of his book filled with these life-affirming messages. “Goth Girls make me horny but also make me laugh” summarized my entire time in High School. Part of me still has a certain, near-grudging respect for the Goth subculture. Listening to the poem reminded me of how I used to be, like I was visiting old me. 

                Chicago Neo-Realism came into being as we shifted between watching Stephen’s hair get cut, reading tweets, and learning more about poetry. Due to the reading in the middle of the week it had a laid-back feel. Usually we see a bunch of readers come and go. Going between two of my favorite readers (Steve and Stephen, the Chicago Superhero duo) made me so happy. They were happy enough to record it too. 

                Expansion of the poetry selection helped considerably. Finding poems on Google made the reading much funnier. One poem, called “An Erotic Poem” by Romeo Della Valle came up. Had we not decided to search for new horizons it might have remained hidden. Sharing it with you I refuse to comment on it. Read it aloud and feel the passion Romeo felt for his long lost love. It breaks my heart to picture Romeo alone without his companion. Hopefully Romeo found someone else who shares his passion for life. 

                This ended up being a pretty amazing ustream. Besides doing the usual poetry readings, Steve talked about flarf criticism and criticism of the boykitten movement in general. I liked hearing it from other people’s perspectives. Obviously I’m very interested it this but I always wonder how people react to criticism. Since I’m basically a sloth I don’t really receive much criticism besides being named after a sin. Excluding that, I got nothing. We’re lucky though. Both members of the ustream plan on revolutionizing poetry for a long time. Just keep in mind that age old advice when people try to bring you down:

                Live your lief!

Ear Eater #6

                I sat ready. Food surrounded me waiting for consumption. My computer screen quivered with anticipation as I typed words into it. A few stared vacantly into their computer screens. They knew something was about to happen, something amazing, something that would change their lives forever and ever. 

                Steve Roggenbuck’s face emerged from the darkness. From darkness comes light. His teeth shone brightly out of the darkness. I’m certain Frank Hinton was happy. Everyone who was there appeared to be glad to see her. Words escape me in describing her attire. Photos failed to capture her radiating beauty. 

                All sorts of people were at the official gathering. Shaun Gannon appeared. Holding a camera Shaun was the videographer for the event. We heard countless people introduce and network among each other. In order to avoid the noise Steve showed off the surrounding area. Firefighters stood by outside. They were at the ready in case things got too hot for the poetry reading. 

                 Andrew James Weatherhead came out to Chicago from New York. While he introduced himself he explained how New York audiences were a bit more difficult than in Chicago. Though he had a slow delivery it was funny. Some of his poems had amazing lines, such as “Four more beers”, “Emails are unbelievable”, “Sleds sledding on other sleds” along with reading tweets. Metazen received some attention as Andrew read a few poems he had submitted to Frank Hinton’s site. Using weird details (ink jet printers, Statue of Liberty, etc.) made the poems that more graspable. 

                Frank Hinton read. “Fantastical Magical Life” got played.  According to Cassandra Troyan this was the first time anything like this had been done at Ear Eater. We watched her type things into a computer for the video. Once that had finished she read in a computerized voice with the caption “Sad Cave” above it. That was the title of the poem.  A girl and a boy hung out together. Each one began to explore the other, slowly, gently. Both of them rode in a boat together. Having such a long one drew me into the material. While it lasted 37 minutes it had become a whole environment with its short, suggestive sentences.

                Timothy Sanders read at the actual, in real life party. He’s the author of “Orange Juice”. According to Cassandra Troyan the book sold out. Coming all the way from Austin, Texas he began with a poem about a growling thing. I liked his delivery. Each word came out so clearly. For the first poem, he did a fantastic job of mentioning every single possible detail, how the animal moves, what it thinks, what it says, etc. Smells were described. Anything you could possibly want a description of had been included.  

                Meghan Lamb continued the evening. Introduced as a ‘poly-artist’ she had visuals and sound backing her up. The visuals included pieces of Americana, bits of farms, clear blue skies, etc. None of these are things I encounter on a regular basis. Her poem followed the video beside her to some degree. Listening to it explain the process of aging, awareness, and the bleakness of years passing. Growing up can be a bit gross and awkward. The poem felt extremely, unrelentingly dark. She asked why she pushed away all those bits of childhood, too quickly it felts. Stuffed animals were thrown on the floor. An ambient noise built up slowly. Using the same words over and over again made sense towards the end as Meghan made an entire environment come near collapse.

                Closing the evening was Mike Kitchell (known as “Impossible Mike” for the impossibility of his greatness). “A Contingency of Evil” got read first. He read it with a huge amount of energy. This one appeared to be bleak and surreal. Something was done with a millipede, something I cannot repeat on here nor want to. Really it takes a lot to shock me but the extreme details and gruesome actions were quite perverse. Later that evening I had nightmares about millipedes. 

                Seeing all the poets after the reading was exciting. We got a great feel of how they were normally. Great amounts of alcohol were consumed in the name of art. The inside of the refrigerator revealed that I and Cassandra Troyan enjoy the same brand of hummus, the rich creamy taste of Sabra. Everyone grew merry at the end. Virtual hugs were exchanged. It was a great performance. Ear Eater forever!

Matt Margo

                Matt Margo ought to drive you wild. With his finger in so many pies, it is pretty difficult to avoid bumping into him. I’ve seen him (virtually) in countless ustream chats. In his own words, he’s still exploring himself as a person, as a writer. Though he is exploring, he’s doing a great job. Since I see him everywhere I notice how much of other people’s work he readily consumes.

                “Cormac McCarthy’s Dead Typewriter” combines a few of his interests. Besides the joy of being named after a still living author’s supposedly deceased typewriter, he has multiple categories one can submit under. It is a literary blog but Matt appears to be a bit more open regarding what counts as poetry, what is art, sound, and photography. Sometimes the lines blur between each form. Matt realizes this and offers what are extremely welcoming terms. 

                A lot of the submissions celebrate the beauty of randomness. There are an unusually large amount of ‘algorithmic wordchains’ and ‘asemic writing’. For Algorithmic wordchains you can technically read them though they prefer to be near-nonsensical. Whoever can read asemic writing probably has some serious issues or is incurably insane. 

                Other submissions are a bit more graspable and slightly less experimental. Flarf, that delightful poetic form, is given a home, as are fiction dribbles and cut-ups. Really, I don’t see enough people doing cut-ups so it is good to see someone wants to give them a home. See Logan K. Young’s piece for an example of the form’s madness. Even though he didn’t state it, normal poetry of the make it yourself kind, occasionally appears on its hallowed pages. The fiction dribbles keep up the slightly cryptic tone Matt has set for the site. Keeping a piece only 50 words long reminds me of the ‘micro-story’ genre, a one I used to dabble in a long time ago. 

                Harsh noise gets some attention. As a big fan of noise, I’m glad to see I’m not the only one. Though seeing the harsh noise releases on his blog further convinces me that noise fans exist on the internet. Noise fans otherwise can never admit to it in person or even meet each other in person. Sometimes I think geography exists for the sole reason of keeping weird music fans apart. My personal experience hasn’t shown me any other alternative reason. Matt knows the genre well as he puts a ten minute limit on the noise pieces. Without any kind of structure, noise often outstays its welcome even with its few fans. 

                The site is full of love. Under the contributors section, he allows any contributor to write as much or as little about their work, lives and interests. I’m glad to see Matt taking a more personal approach to literature and music than “Here is a link to their blog. Have fun.” Reading about each one of the contributors makes me happy. Whatever the contributor did is suddenly humanized. Now I think of the contributors as people rather than faceless people on the internet. Having spoken with people about their perception of bloggers, Matt’s approach is something more people ought to be doing. Most people I speak with barely think of the individual behind the actual pieces of writing. Seeing how some of his contributors do multiple art forms (Matt and a Finn named Jukka-Pekka Kervinen) cheers up me enormously.

                Despite the dead typewriter, the future looks bright for Matt Margo.  To celebrate the blog’s three month anniversary (in blog years, three months equals a year) he’ll be doing a live reading of some of the material this evening at 7:30PM on ustream. I’m excited by this prospect. Harsh noise walls may or may not be played as he’s particularly fond of them even creating his own noise project accessible here. I’d suggest he look into a favorite genre of mine, yet to be created, called “Polka-Noise”. By this evening I hope he gets some pictures of butterflies or carrots (those remain the only submissions he has not received). I’m dreaming of a noise dance party.

Post-Tennis Poetry Reading

                Going to these poetry readings online, I longed for a time when I could attend one of these readings in real life. Finally my prayers were answered. Jacob Steinberg decided to prove the power of New York City’s poetry scene. A moment passed where I felt tempted to let my guard down and appear. When I looked at the sky, a concrete shade of grey, I decided against it. Besides, with all those ‘screen-shots’ that could be taken, I prefer to confine myself to text on the internet for now. 

                Jacob Steinberg graduated from NYU and he was the host of this Tennis-themed reading. The reading began with “Chocolate Milk” by Spencer Madsen. For a while they had a difficult time reading it. An arrangement formed where Jacob would consume a foul liquid as Spencer read his poem about Chocolate Milk. 

                Argentina received attention. I’d never heard any contemporary poetry from Argentina before but it was good. “PC” explained how the power of computers brings people together like a bonfire. By reading them in Spanish, we were able to get some attention outside of the United States. Hopefully this is the first small step towards a non-English international coalition of boykittens. 

                The individuals at the reading stated Steve Roggenbuck brought everyone together. When Spencer Madsen talked about the beginning of the lit scene he mentioned how difficult it was to find like-minded people. Once Steve added him, this entire online community was available to help him through. “James Franco” was one of Spencer’s poems. He read it with vigor. The poem reminded me of college. I miss college. 

                “There are all these girls. Why do none of them like me?” began one of them. This was perhaps the best beginning of any poem I’ve ever heard. It had a good self-depreciating sense of humor; a type of humor New York patented in the early 70s. Spencer Madsen wrote this poem. Actually Spencer Madsen read a lot of poetry based heavily around college, moving and unrequited love. Listening to it felt wonderful. One of his poems focused on a girlfriend who moved away to Florida to go to college, leaving him in the cultural wasteland of Staten Island. 

                The poetry reading was emotional. Spencer wrote extensively about trying to find love. Jess Dutschmann broke that focus. Instead, she wrote about the person she was dating, a man named Jim. Apparently she brought the only experience of happy relationships. Looking at her, I felt the sass. Listening to her poems end with “That’s it” confirmed it. 

                “Ode to Flatbush” was a sweet poem by Jacob Steinberg. Dedicated to Flatbush, a place that many New Yorkers feel uneasy about, it was extremely tender. Considering the harshness the neighborhood often receives, it was great to hear some positive words about the place. 

                Poncho Peligroso’s poem “Epilogue Part II” was read by Spencer Madsen. For most of these poems, Spencer ended up being the main reader. We hope that by reading more poems from Poncho, he’ll attend more ustreams. Whether or not there is any fact to this hope remains to be seen. 

                FM Stringer (a man I’d never heard of) wrote a long poem. Jess did the honors of reading the poem. It was a long poem. A three part series, she saved the other parts. She referred to him as a ‘fierce guy’. Other parts followed later. 

                Spencer speculated on relationship statuses on Facebook. By now, he had recovered from his drinking. To indicate his sobriety he stood up. Jordan Castro may or may not be in a relationship according to this poem. After that was a poem about his work in a bike shop, in case you weren’t certain whether or not he lived in Brooklyn. “I want to pet a pigeon” was one line. He counted toes. 

                Poetry can be flattering. A series dedicated to J R came up. This was the reason for the ustream. So much poetry is based off of the love of others. Jacob Steinberg wrote based off of the love for another. Unrequited love ended up being the theme of the night. Large amounts of space separated Jacob from J R. What I felt was the extreme rawness and heartfelt quality. I’d like to explain why I enjoyed this, but words fail me, especially in such an overwhelming series. 

                Happy time eluded the reading. I thought if I had attended the reading in person perhaps I could have brought some smiles. Rather than hearing about the constant sadness of failed relationships, I might have read about happy relationships. The humor of Spencer and Steinberg made it a bit easier to handle. Poets feel.

                “I’m X” came up, continuing the theme of Argentine poetry. Jacob read it in English. The little books looked like passports. How a book or item looks is extremely important to me. “You” followed. Both of these poems were written by a mother of two in Argentina. We were advised she was beautiful, something none of us were able to independently confirm. 

                Jess Dutschmann went away to New Jersey. Before she left, she read some poems off of her blog. Recently she released an entire chapbook. You can read it all for free online at her blog. Hopefully at some point I’ll get around to reading it. 

                Steve Roggenbuck got read. Before Spencer read Roggenbuck he mentioned how he went on a date with someone from OKCupid, a favorite dating site of mine. As the date progressed, the date had not merely heard of Roggenbuck but had Steve’s chapbook in her purse. Unfortunately for Spencer, the date did not go well. While Steve has swag, it has its limits. 

                Allie read her own poetry. Finally we got to hear her voice. Her delivery was forceful. The poem itself had a certain rhythm. Once she had finished, everyone in the room felt overwhelmed. We wished we had heard more from her. In future readings (which Jacob and Spencer seemed keen on) we’ll get to hear more of her poems. 

                Finally it ended with a dance party. The song was a remix of Neon Indian’s “Should’ve taken Acid with you”. Drama ensued for a brief moment as Spencer’s laptop nearly died. Soon they realized it would live. 

Next time I’ll bring hugs.