By K. Iver
You’ve never seen a lilac in Mississippi. Backstage you wear lotion laced with its chemical imitation...
Explore Poems: Theater & Dance
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- By Ava CipriHere is the encyclopedia where I learn first position Here is where I begin ballet: at 12, in a class...
- By David WagonerUnder the sagging clotheslines of crepe paper By the second string of teachers and wallflowers In the...
- By Robin BeckerThink of the fox skins belted to the backs of the dancers at Santo Domingo Pueblo, a thousand fox skins...
- By Len VerweySorry, I assumed you were awake anyway. Let's try it without the heavy breathing toward the end of the...
- By Luke KennardBut not before several undisputed stone-cold classics. This is why we keep writing about Cain: for all its self...
- By Luke KennardIt is generally believed that the writers had to make the most of a low budget and that this led to...
- By Luke KennardOne of Halberg’s more whimsical decisions: just when the action is coming to a head, attempt to pull...
- By Luke KennardInjured, sleep-deprived, sorely tested, Adah, Cain, and Father K are falsely imprisoned in a shallow...
- By Luke KennardA much-needed swan song from Cain, blasting Father K’s bien-pensant ideology and everyone else in his...
- By Luke KennardAn extremely hubristic, unflattering, and accurate self-portrait, this episode saw Halberg in direct...
- By Luke Kennard+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++...
- By Ed SkoogEthics are learned from who you sleep with the first few times, and theater is sex, almost. Being in...
- By Richie Hofmannthe city not yet shielded in ice the harbor not yet frozen enough to walk across trees without leaves...
- By Lo Kwa Mei-EnWhen the mirror swings open, it calls me obscenely shapely. A ruby wing slaps the glass. Soft smear. Since, like the drowning...
- By Kanya Kanchanadarkriver moonrise girlrise locksdrip firmfoot mudbank starwheel skinflush red mouthswell tongueloll...
- By Carolina EbeidCan you let go the concern for how it began what happened Here the word house remains A reddening ( ) near house...
- By Rukmini Bhaya Nairi poetry Pull down the crows from the sky Piya, summer’s blood is barely dry What is a poem if it cannot try To...
- By Ru FreemanThe heart, the surgeon says, does not reveal the small rifts, the hairline cracks which split the hairline...
- By Penelope ShuttleFather Lear the king so shaped his bairns with the wand’s upper hand the fire’s swanny wing smooth tippet...