I am trying to make sense out of the intersection of literature/narrative and dance. In the creation of Tundra, I started with a series of questions. What is it to be a woman in the world, alone?
Tyrant-Poem
IWe will shake our bodies like animals abandoned in the forest,and the moon will sing lullabies for thedead;the dead who were mine and did...
New Day, New War
dawn breaks over dust—jets thunder into IranIsrael’s warning
missiles cross at dusk—sirens bloom in BeershebaTel Aviv trembles
bunker busters boom—America joins the fraycall...
Glass Houses
We hide behind glass—thin, trembling breath,shattered silence,each crack a raw wound,a secret bleeding light.Truth fractures us—yet in jagged breaks,strength flickers, trembling,not a mask,...
