05 December 2005
rob budde flickers in ctown (02december05)
friday night, poet rob budde brought Flicker down to 8th ave. off th cold street, into th bookstore McNalley Robinson, and upto th café. servers in black hustled to get drinks and clear tables. jackets were slung over chairs. budde’s posse hunkerd down at th table next to the podium.
a stack of his new book of poems, Flicker, was at th back near th shelves. th hues of its cover blended into th warm glow of th café. th night, which by now everyone knew, pressed unthreateningly up against th windows – yet th evidence was there: red marks upon cheeks and th tips of ears.
budde got up and explaind th flicker. its form is short prose; microfiction; a story that fits on a page; a moment in time. flickers mimic memories – vivid; composed; each symbol of th mind’s eye a meaning. he says, th content is personal. poetry is th only way. for a moment we are w/ him – on a beach, in a bookstore: flickering.
then he read A Sleep of Faith: a chapbook that dreamd its way into th pages of Flicker. th café driftd on the wakes of sleep as he read, sleep, sleep, and once in awhile he jolted everyone back w/ a syringe, or a hard fuck.
he signed books, and talkd. drinks were put back. th jazz came, and we hustled. back onto cold 8th ave, w/ th friday nighters, into th vicious circle.
Rob Budde is currently teaching creating writing and critical theory at UNBC. Flicker is available.
# posted by hardyf : 11:20
