Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Tuesday, September 29th: Jesse Lichtenstein, Andrew Michael Roberts, w/music by Tyler Gaston

Kidnap: Back with another one, not entirely dissimilar to the other ones! PDX virtuosos yet again! Who'da thunk it??

Who: Poets Jesse Lichtenstein & Andrew Michael Roberts, Musician Tyler Gaston
Where: 3968 SE Mall St., Upper Floors
When: Tuesday, September 29th at 7:30 pm
How much: Free (donations of money, drinks, food, books, & love accepted; no receipts issued)

Also, once again we'll have a table set up with consumer goods for all your capitalist impulses! Bring stuff you made if you want to sell it!


Jesse Lichtenstein is working on his first book of poems, excerpts of which have appeared in the Paris Review, Gulf Coast, Verse, Denver Quarterly, La Petite Zine, and other journals. He also writes journalism and prosy things, some of which have appeared in the New Yorker, Slate, The Economist, n +1, and the anthology Disquiet Please (Random House, 2008). Most of the time he lives in Portland, Oregon, where he teaches poetry, writes screenplays, and helps run the Loggernaut Reading Series.


Andrew Michael Roberts is the author of something has to happen next, which was awarded the 2008 Iowa Poetry Prize and is a finalist for the 2009 Oregon Book Award. He has written two chapbooks, Dear Wild Abandon, selected for a 2007 PSA National Chapbook Award, and Give Up from Tarpaulin Sky Press (2006). He lives in Portland.


Musical guest Tyler Gaston is from Oklahoma. He has been putting words to music for almost ten years, pumping out country ballads of the setting sun and the darkening night with tear-inducing efficiency. Relatively new to Portland, Tyler is settling in to the realities of living in a world class drinking town, humming and strumming through the diviest bars around. He plays in the band The Tumblers and once-upon-a-time musical collaboration with Joshua Beckman on Erasmas Darwin. Experience the lore of this back-woods, ax-wielding, chicken frying, country yodeling, cattle branded, southern gentleman for yourself.

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