It’s been going on for over a year now, and I think it’s best to provide a little explanation. One night, Bobby, Jonathan and I went out to the waterfront to recite verse written by dead poets. I had a photo somewhere but I can’t find it right now. It was iconic, so you’ll have to imagine: moonlight, the Willamette River, and three skinny art-boys reading from books written by old white dudes.
We performed around town, every once in a while, until we settled on Quality Bar, located across the street from Powell’s Books. 11pm on weekends, we’d meet, drink, write poems, and the perform them under the “Pod” structure across the street. However, we do not call it the “Pod”. The only reason I know it’s called the “Pod” is because I looked it up one night when I was trying to write about it. For all intents and purposes, we refer to the structure as the “Scrote”, due to its resemblance to a single, human testicle.
Beneath the scrote, we read the poems that we wrote that night at Quality Bar. Another weird part of the event’s mythos is the spelling of “poems” as “pomes”. This is a stylistic choice, and makes us a little bit more difficult (or perhaps easier) to find online. And yes! There IS an online presence. We have an Instagram, maybe a Twitter, a Facebook page, a YouTube Channel, and an actual website.
We’ve been at this since the fall of 2015, and have boxes and boxes of scraps of paper with our barstool “pomes” scribbled on them. We hope to make a book one day of all the pomes, and such a book is rumored to be in the works.
I share this with you because it’s something I’m excited about, and I think you should be excited too. Or even, if you are so inclined, drop by to write & perform with us. The night is hard to predict, and having you along for the ride would be beautiful.