Last Thursday, alumni Ross Martin '95 and Mary Leader Ph.D. '00 read poetry from their new books in the Rappaporte Treasure Hall. I attended for many reasons, one of them being that I had never heard of the Rappaporte Treasure Hall, and one of my favorite hobbies is discovering little-known rooms on campus that boast the word Treasure in their name. Indeed, the enormous room was very plush and an ideal place for a poetry reading. What I did not bargain for was the amazing display of poetic craftsmanship and performances of the two artists.After a brief introduction by Professor Olga Broumas (ENG), director of the creative writing program, Martin took the stage. He cited numerous accolades, including his graduation from Brandeis, the publishing of his first book, "The Cop Who Rides Alone" and his holding the position of poetry editor for Nerve Magazine.

He remarked in a few quick words of introduction how bizarre it was for him to be here, especially with his wife and son sitting outside in the car. This somewhat odd statement kicked off the event with something of a sense of urgency, as he delved right into his readings with very little or no explanation of his work - simply a barrage of poetry from start to finish. His first piece was vaguely political, with hints of teenage angst, evoking nervous laughter from the audience in response to lines like, "I've put a microchip in you but we don't know where, there is something vaguely homosexual in you but we don't know where."

The audience grew more amused when he changed the pace of things for his next piece, "No One Eats in the Chinese Restaurants No One Eats In." When he asked, "Dear God in heaven what could take so long in a place like this?" I was thinking the same thing. I could go into any high school creative writing class to hear teenage angst with mildly ironic titles.

It was not until a brief pause about halfway through his performance that I finally got a glimpse of what Martin was really all about. He was relaying an anecdote about a marijuana-smoking professor who lived upstairs from him and his wife at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), who "says abstract art has to be really good to impress her (because) she's a published writer." That was when I knew that Martin's angle wasn't the teenage angst that I had pegged him for earlier, but a direct response to the pretentious writer who dressed the part and walked around town believing he is a connoisseur of all things sublime.

Martin reworked the words of U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins from a speech about writing, trading his self-righteous air for a slightly more comfortable one, as he remarked, "I want to expose high school students." But, in a later poem about his days watching cop genitalia in a private gym where he spent RISD's money on a membership, Martin realized, "They've got me outnumbered except for gym shorts. I keep on upping my revolutions per minute."

Martin's other titles include "Dispatch Her," "From Opening Remarks at the Final G.I. Camp in Thailand," "Hello Anus" and "Men In The Waiting Room."

Contrary to the stark modernity in the voice of Martin, Leader took the stage next with an easy, colloquial style of long strings of prose-like poetry - neverending prepositions, repetitions and appeals directly to her characters about the trials and tribulations of everyday life. Leader earned her Ph.D. at Brandeis in 2000 and now teaches at the University of Memphis. Her first book," "Red Signature," was a National Poetry Series selection, and her second book, "The Penultimate Suitor," won the Iowa Poetry Prize.

Also, unlike Martin, Leader took the time to explain various references in her poems. A significant portion of her readings were devoted to an attempt to reconcile her Catholic heritage with a Jewish environment. In a poem entitled, "Pentecost / Shavuot," Leader stated, "I am alive inside the uncountable lives, this was different, this was not the same." Still trying to recapture two different religious experiences, she offered, "Then we were none of us bound anymore." This liberating feeling was paramount throughout her readings. In a poem entitled "Linen Repeatedly Folded," she exchanged voices with each succeeding line, taking on both the persona of the old woman and the little girl. "My present tense," she reminded, "I don't know what it will be like until I have clarity."

Leader's other titles include "Among Things Held At Arms Length," "Lulling" and "Lamentations At Midnight.