The little gray building on East 3rd Street, right off Loisaida Avenue, is deceptively low-key. White Christmas lights dangle from the fire escape and a small sign proclaims, in bold black letters, "Nuyorican Poet's Café." Then Julio, the bouncer, opens the door, demanding five bucks—as he's been doing every Friday night since 1989 when the café first began holding poetry slams. Inside, it's crowded. Folks of all colors are sprawled on the floor, propped up against the stairs, leaning against the brick walls—occupancy 120 people alerts a nearby sign. Don't matter. Wordsmith and blind man Steve Cannon's at the end of bar, his usual seat, drinking white wine and smoking a cigarette, heckling the poets to "read... More >>>