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?
FALLSTREETLIGHT SWITCH
The sodium-vapor streetlightswith fresnel lenses like lidded eyeshave been replacedwith horseshoe-like arcs of LED lights.As the morning stays dark longerand evening comes on...
Cloth & Sun
Chaos greets me at the door—
broken things swirl,
dust motes through worn curtains,
a breath before the next bruise.
You coil like an old cobra,
fangs...
Loop
Goddamn those whippoorwills, we wanted
to shoot them, our history teacher said.
-
He’d lived in the woodsiest neck of our district
since childhood. Of course we’d heard them
-
too: In...
