Cheap Wine And Poetry

>>> The Pacific Northwest has a rich community when it comes to writing and literature. We have some interesting authors and poets here, Sherman Alexi, David Guterson, and we have a lot of up and coming writers do. And one of my favorite things is uniting those writers in the process. >> Ready? [LAUGHTER] Just roll it up. >> Delivers my soul on a fork. [LAUGHTER] >> This is Seattle's coolest reading series. We've been running it for eight years now. And we serve glasses of wine at a buck per cup. And we have four very, very good, very diverse regions. >> Her mind so thin, hallway doors growing dead bolts. >> We'll become a single epic fiery poem together. >> D.B. Cooper, hitler's clone, agreed to appear on a crop circle that... >> Trying to convince Brian to get on board with, which is keep LSD and academic fiction. >> This is one of my favorite events in the city. And it's really a great time. What more could you ask for. >> I've been coming here for about six, seven years. Nice ambiance, nice community. The wine and the beer. And generally very good quality of work. śś >> Very passionate environment. It's art in the community. And it's a very inspiring thing to be surrounded by so many like minds, so much energy, so many creative people. And I'm very proud to be a part of this all. >> We bring in writers from out of town and we also showcase local writers, some of which are published and some of which are emerging and just trying to break into the world of writing. >> We'd like to make it poetry. [LAUGHTER] [APPLAUSE] >> We'd like to welcome our first child into this world in August. And so I thought... It's called cello mother. What would it have been like to have a cello for a mother? Calling from downstairs in urgent octaves that the school bus won't wait. Then her telling you to button your coat as she looks for her keys and grumbles in F-minor. She would be a Melodious mother. Driving along the roads and stopping and going in tempo. When she dropped you to the curb, the other families would stop to listen, her kiss extending in the air with a whale song. And your birth would have been easy when she retold the story. Her exhaling Mozart. Years later, when you came home for holidays, there would be soup on the stove and a bread in perfect eighths. And that night as you unpack your suitcase, she would stop at your doorway with a lullaby for the monsters in the closet, who have never gotten used to such sweet music. [APPLAUSE]