Last semester, I studied abroad in Durban, South Africa and was fortunate enough to meet the Nowadayz Poets, a group of young men and women with many things in common - among them, the love of poetry. I got up to the front of the room, recited a poem of mine, and that was all it took: I was a member, both of the group and of the feeling. That's the power of the spoken word - a power Saul Williams, writer and star of the award winning 'Slam' knows how to wield so very well.Upon entering the Paradise Rock Club, I saw a man on stage trying to make conversation with the audience members and failing quite amazingly. We went to the balcony and spied a thin, tall bearded man near the sound engineer. "Saul Williams," my friend announced, "there he is." I had seen him before on television as the mouthpiece to an amazing work of art. The story was of a small-time drug dealer who erupts into poetry at key moments of his life, such as during a prison term. The plot is intense and the performances are equally powerful. I came to Commonwealth Avenue on Wednesday to see some of that strength.

After waiting an appropriate amount of time, Mr. Williams graced the stage. As a graduate of the prestigious Tisch program at New York University, he knows how to command an audience, and he does so effortlessly. As he was about to begin his first poem, he decided to change format. He wanted to have the lights turned on slightly so that the venue could have a forum-like environment. So it became an improvised 'question leads to an answer leads to many answers leads to two poems leads to...' It was not the expected format at all, but fortunately, the crowd was as intrigued and delighted as I was.

What the night became was a 'VH1 Storytellers' for the underground. He encouraged us to ask questions such as, "Why are you playing chess on the back of a turtle in ...?" or "What is the significance of time in ...?" He handled each inquiry with a friendly, open respectfulness - unafraid to laugh at himself or his off-the-cuff responses. There was little pretension being projected from the stage. As an actor, he was a vessel for another's words and therefore had a certain distance from the audience. Yet as a writer, he could be right next to us, he could be inside of us.

That was one of the most important parts of the evening - his willingness to ask us, to listen to us, and to try to understand us. For too many, the 'us' is a bottom line, a consumer line or a queue to be satisfied and refilled. Williams was different. He was engaged, asking who went to the Rock the Vote in town the day before and listening to what the people had to say. He was unafraid to speak his mind - a mind that is often camouflaged by metaphors and wild imagery. There was a nakedness and a vulnerability present that was so refreshing that it inspired the same within the audience.

With a two-hour show, he spent perhaps half the time talking and not reciting. Did this bother me? No. This is because I can only really process two of his poems at a time, for they are some of the meatiest, most emotionally and psychologically demanding works I know of, and frankly, time is needed to absorb. That was the brilliance of the set-up; we were given the breathing room. The poetry, however, was absolutely breathtaking. One story, of his first time on stage, when he incidentally met the man who would be Mos Def - among others - concluded with him reciting that very first poem. His body like a shaking wire, his voice loud and distinct, Williams captivated us with his rapid-fire delivery of a picture of the world as he knew it then. Because of the stories, I felt personally responsive to the poem. Because he was so human on stage, I felt personally connected to him. That is the power of Saul Williams.

His final poem, "Sha Clack-Clack," expressed my sentiments concerning the night exactly. We all needed more time -more of his time - because every moment of that night was a seed to spawn an hour of thought. Like he said in a story, it's not the time but the moment. A moment can last forever; a moment can last a second. Don't mourn lost time, instead mourn lost moments. I have those moments locked up safely in my head. If you have a taste for poetry that moves you, touches you, makes you want to change the world or maybe just words on the surface of a piece of paper, I suggest that you go buy his new book, 'Said the Shotgun to the Head.' I suggest you rent 'Slam.' I suggest you spend a precious moment to find your way to a stage with Saul Williams on it.