THIS IS (almost) IT.

Twas the night before Ruckus, when all through Toronto

All the readers were rushing to get in bed, pronto.

Their writing was hung by the front door with care,

In hopes that tomorrow night soon would be there.

Jeremy was nestled all snug in his bed,

While robots and love games danced 'round in his head.

Andrew in his PJs, keyboard in his lap,

Was about to lay down for a long summer’s nap.

In Mattieu's bedroom, all the lights had been dimmed,

He read Dionne Brand, blankets tucked 'round his chin.

Jakub sat at his desk, though sleep was inviting,

Penning more dicks into the piece he was writing.

The thought on the tip of each of their brains

(The thrill for which they could hardly contain),

Was of the reading which drew very near,

Where there would be both great art and great beer.

(with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

Check your calenders. Yeah, right now. I can wait.
...

Was there an enormous, frantic circle of red pen around June 15th? If not, put one there (I'll still be here when you get back). Because tomorrow, fellas and gals, is the first-ever RUCKUS READING. (And ya wouldn't wanna miss that, now wouldja?)

JEREMY HANSON-FINGER is taking you on a date.

ANDREW SHENKMAN has his keyboard slung over his shoulder.

JAKUB WASIKIEWICZ waxes poetic about time-travel and weird beliebers. 

MATTIEU DOMINIC RAMSAWAK bumbles his way into the most intellectual depths of your heart. 

& THE ONLY CAFE has 24 taps and a cask ready and rarin' to go. 

7 PM @ 972 DANFORTH AVE.

NO COVER (although we may pass a hat around). 

We'll see you there.