Several student poets warmed up the stage for Anis. First was College senior Ryan Magiera, who performed a piece that zigzagged between humor and despair. Next, College junior Lexie Bean did a poem about first kisses and further kisses, and College sophomore Charlie Marks waxed poetic on fathers and sons, pinball and giving up. There aren’t a lot of opportunities for people to stand up and yell out the truth, but in this venue it was expected.

Then Anis came on, sporting glasses and a somewhat scruffy beard. Once the overwhelming applause stopped, he started off the night without any stage banter; just a poem called “Closer.”

“I am like you,” he confessed. “Most days this world has thinned me to where I am just another cloud.” In another poem, he described a house full of beauty (“where the trees burn like song”) and invited us in, over and over. “Come closer. Come into this.” Every line was warm and welcoming, and it worked — Anis is the opposite of intimidating, though he can talk very, very fast when he needs to. He finished the poem to an enthusiastic reception, and then said quite genuinely, “It’s so nice to be here.”

There was applause and banter. Then Anis took the gloves off. His style is an assault of images, each one probably enough for a poem on its own. Relentless beauty. He spoke about his childhood, about America, about what it means to be a man; but he made those common ideas multicolored and heavenly. It’s hard to describe him without slipping into metaphors and imagery myself: He held water in his hands without any escaping, and then he splashed it all on our faces. The poems formed a spiral, each building emotionally and dramatically on what came before, surrounding us with Anis’s quirky and unendingly inventive imagination.

I tried to take notes, but they’re mostly just the title of the poem and then “fucking beautiful” and “gorgeous, gorgeous.” He was never too serious; often when he made us laugh it was in the disbelieving discovery of his true meaning. One of his poems is titled “Even If Someone Pooped Out a Poem, It’s Alright Because Somebody Somewhere Made It.” Anis’s style is intrinsic to his performance: he’s full of the same energy and candidness as his metaphors. He told us how his wife makes him feel (“like honey and trombones”), about the two years he spent in the grip of depression, and what saved him from that. Even when he was yelling “SPACE PEOPLE LOVE FRENCH FRIES!” (from “Pooped Out a Poem”), you could absolutely feel its truth. He never paused for effect; he simply kept going so that you laughed in wonder as your mind ran to keep up.

When Anis left the stage, nobody could find any words. I settled for jumping up and down, and also buying his book for $15. Anis Mojgani is a magician who actually knows magic.