To see Marc Smith (so what?!) read poetry is to fall in love. Except he doesn't "read" so much as he stomps, flails, howls and flings his poems headlong from the tiny stage at The Green Mill in Chicago.

His poems on the printed page are, without the voice and the man and the stage presence, much more static. But there is an echo there of the man who speaks, and it's well worth reading. If you're in Chicago, be sure to stop in at The Green Mill some Sunday night for the (original!) poetry slam. There's never a dull moment. Especially when Marc's behind the mic.

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