There is something golden about the poetry scene that took shape in the 1980s inside Chicago’s Green Mill. Marc Smith gathered poets and strangers into a shared experience of voice and presence with one simple instruction: don’t wait until the end of the poem to respond. If a line landed, let it be known in the moment. The crowd didn’t clap. They snapped their fingers – a quiet rhythm that said, I heard that. I felt that. Say it again. A decade …
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