A poet’s natural habitat looks something like this: sitting with a bent neck, cold coffee within reach, diving into oneself, backspacing with burrowed brow or crumbling papers to toss into the full wastepaper basket in the corner. It’s a process of passion, and an intimately solitary one at that. Too often poets’ efforts remain confined to the page; it might seem unnatural to share one’s poetry at all let alone aloud with strangers.  However, I’m here to advocate for Denver poetry activism. Here I’ll review the ample reasons & rewards to reading for an audience:         Stepping... Read More