Stranger, I know it can be burdensome, always reading to yourself. The voice in your head never seems to change, does it? It's the same one you've had since your Dr. Seuss days, right? (Not that these aren't yet our Dr. Seuss days. Not that some days don't lend themselves to iambs and funny names.) I've got a cure for you. It's temporary but I think you're going to like it. It's poetry, out loud and in your ear holes! On August 17th, Ada Books and The Publicly Complex Reading Series Presents an evening of cheap wine and fine verse. The wine (and snacks!) will be provided by the management. The verse will be courtesy of John Cotter and Elisa Gabbert. You can find out more about Cotter at his website, Elisa Gabbert has a book of poems called Thanks For Sending The Engine, a copy of which I have before me even now, thanks to Justin Marks at Kitchen Press. Here, I'll read one to you. (For this effect you need only to read the poem aloud while mimicing my throaty but handsome lisp.) It's called Blogpoem after Walter Benjamin. Every time you reproduce a piece of art /you remove some of its aura & that's why /your mix tape didn't impress me much, /it was so fucking aura-less /but in the film /version of the novelization of this poem /I play myself but have fantastic breasts /& there are probably some blood baths /& also when my fangy tooth catches /on my lip men everywhere crumple /w/ the ecstasy & agony of it & really /who needs aura in your movie when /you're so hot it breaks people's knees. Or listen to the poet herself (and himself) this Friday, at 7pm. Don't disappoint me, Stranger. For haven't I had a life's length of disappointment already?


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