Apparently determined to get some kind of rise out of the staid, self-absorbed crowd at the Poetry Project, Nada Gordon appeared Wednesday night in a belly dancing outfit complete with finger cymbals. First she kicked the hell out of the podium, and if that can't wake up these moribund poets, she'll read to us provocatively from her terrific new book "V. IMP." (Faux Press), replete with wicked wit laced with double entendres and lightning fast rhythmic movement, dances straight toward and all around us us singing and laughing all the while, with her two partners tossing slips of paper with enigmatic poems printed on them; then, with these two charming cohorts sings us a rousing new song redolant with Bollywood and general hilarity. I managed to scratch one line down despite my state of shocked and dazed delight: "Even generals are ephemeral." I thought I glimpsed a few twinkles in the eyes of the usual suspects as we drifted out like sullen vampires shuffling home to beat the dawn.