Ghost Town Poetry Open Mic Featuring Brittany Baldwin and Leah Noble Davidson Thursday, August 14, 2014

Cover to Cover Flyer August 14 2014

GHOST TOWN POETRY OPEN MIC
Hosted By Clark County Poet Laureate Christopher Luna
And Printed Matter Vancouver Publisher Toni Partington

7pm
Thursday, August 14
Cover to Cover Books
6300 NE St. James Rd., Suite 104B (St. James & Minnehaha)
Vancouver, WA 98663

LGBTQ-friendly, all ages, and uncensored since 2004

Featuring Brittany Baldwin and Leah Noble Davidson:

Brittany Baldwin lives by a creek in rural Oregon with a dog, cat and some chickens. She has cooked professionally for 20 years and written poems since she was a child. She prefers the woods to anything else.

Leah Noble Davidson head shotLeah Noble Davidson in action

Leah Noble Davidson has enthusiasm up the wahoo. Her debut book, Poetic Scientifica (published through University of Hell Press), was Powell’s 3rd bestselling small press book of last year, and she currently produces Portland’s Moth StorySLAM. If you would like to see an example of Leah reading her work, take a look at Tiffany Burba-Schramm’s video from the Independent Publishing Resource Center on March 28, 2014: http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ECXlm8I-zSg&autoplay=1

Square Nails
By Brittany Baldwin

I promised I wouldn’t write about us
to myself

even as I was watching you point your finger into the
door of your truck as it idled in the drive for the last time

you were saying something about
wanting your half of the money for the house

and I was watching how square your nails were,
trying to capture the corners of your hands and thinking
of all we did for each other all those days

all of the building as these hands came together

and they would never hold the other again

there would be a passing of money

inside a bank on a gray day

and then forever

Have
By Leah Noble Davidson

The depression begins with you fingering hand towels you can’t afford in a store you’ll never remember the name of because you’re consumed with how they remind you of the ones you dried the dishes with when you quit working to stay home with the baby while he started his career at the job that you got for him so he wouldn’t have to work nights at the bookstore, pretended to be him, wrote the résumé and answered the emails. You researched how to ace an interview, picked out and ironed his clothes.

He could buy you these towels if you hadn’t left because he threw you across the kitchen floor, told you how much you owed him, but that money is for flowers now, for a woman much prettier than you, someone he’s learned to be thankful for.

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