The spirit of poets permeates the space/time occupied by an assortment of dinner engagements that occasionally erupt into physical or verbal assaults on the taste buds. Flowers of evil are absent from this foray into the spoken word, as the message is one of courage in the face of carnivorous tendencies. An archivist shares his dream with us while the dreamers dabble in their own brand of munchies meant to nourish rather than negate. Mortality hovers over the hovels of the hungry as poetry becomes as concrete as the pastry offered we mortals on planet Earth.

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