Oh God the Poems

Oh God the Poems
What good are they beside her?

Oh God the mistress of the calendar turning?
Oh God the calendar throughout.

Oh God, I call upon you labia.
Oh God the mystery of the morning
will i
never know.?

Theater Feature: New Cabaret in Old Uptown: Kiss Kiss Crew Launches Theater With NYE Hullabaloo

  A feature for Newcity Stage:

Artist’s rendering of the Uptown Underground Grand Promenade

I am even less qualified to build a stage, rig lighting, or put up drywall than I am to put on some pasties and do burlesque. Actually I might look strangely alluring in the aforementioned nipple patches installing one of the Uptown Underground’s lovely chandeliers, but my point is when I recently toured the venue I couldn’t visualize how wonderful it will look for its nearly sold-out New Year’s Eve opening night. It was still under construction. 

Kiss Kiss Cabaret’s New Years Eve celebration last year at the Greenhouse

Luckily Kiss Kiss Cabaret’s Chris O. Biddle and Jenn A. Kincaid, the pair behind this new 7,000-square-foot theater, were there to fill in the gaps in my imagination…

( read full feature here )

Son of the Son of the Sheik, With the Bureau

I shoulda joined the FBI
Instead I'm gonna dance

I should be Valentino
But he's been long interred

"Special Agent Sheik?"
she asked, "What do you make of this
Surrebuttal?"

I said nothing.
You know what happens when I
Open my mouth.

And so I tangoed, over to
Ms Ayres' star
6504 Hollywood Boulevard

Passerby, agape, whom I was awing,
through intertitles exclaimed I'd never turned a finer role:
Resurrected Investigator of Forgotten Stars

But in truth it was the forgetful I was tailing.
How can they doesn't remember your
Lady Diana Mayo? What then future they walkabout?

"Off her star!!" I started to holler, my voice none so awful after all that. "At least wear some rubbers on your feet, the kind with my face on 'em!!!" I cackled, twirling a sword while deflecting homogenizing binary code and the glinting gaze of their handcameras with an unspooling film reel somehow still in the can. Of course they hadn't a clue or a care. Tomorrow's youth, today. Wholly ignorant of the Sheik no matter how merchandized. Still I screamed "Quiet," ironically.
The results were ideal.
But the process proves arduous, one tongue at a time.

A. A. arise now from Forever: Hollywood Forever where what become have we but backdrop?! Still as young as you left, after short madness. Younger ever am I, and inflamed.

You should have stayed at Essanay, made comedies. I shoulda stayed at Quantico, finished me training. Now I'm just a renegade charmer, chasing down injustice and reinstating silence.

Theater Feature: Living Funeral at the Hummingbird Hotel: Steppenwolf Playwright Lisa D’Amour on Setting Her “Airline Highway” in Her New Orleans Hometown

  A feature for Newcity Stage:

Lisa D’Amour is a playwright and an interdisciplinary artist. “It’s just a little bizarre that it’s kind of two different fields,” she notes when we discuss the distinction between traditional theater and interdisciplinary arts. 

(from top, then left to right) Scott Jaeck, Brenann Stacker, Caroline Neff,
Terry Hamilton, Kate Buddeke and Carolyn Braver/Photo: Joel Moorman

“It’s sort of astounding how little the leaders in these fields talk to each other.” An Obie winner for her play “Detroit” as well as for work as part of the collaborative performance duo PearlDamour, she’s been working closely with Steppenwolf on the world premiere of her new play…

( read full feature here )

I Lifted the Babies

I lifted the babies
And they became sand.
My touch wilted the grand
Cathedrals.
Lovers I passed turned to
Ligament chatterboxes.
But after your gaze I
made the Sun new.

Eradicatora Divine

I have come to instruct the world in suffering, he said over tea. At that my hand took up the hammer, I swung a tornado, wakened the heavens, struck the decisive blow for the Eradicatora Divine.

I Lost All Sense of the Sidewalk

I lost all sense of the sidewalk.
I have no taste for the motorways. Can't
stand to ride the rails. Even the
dirt path is too
much of a construct.

Trudging the sludge of my landfill city
red-faced bloodsinger voicing in the wind
romantically inclined to call it
a marsh.

And So The People Said

And so the people said:
Okay, already, with the lunar
tightrope
shows us how you
pantsed Satan.

Show us the move that brought down
those righteous archers.

  Show us the
dance that's
all the
craze
.

They Always Want the Same

They always want the same trick:
Walk to the Moon on the Highwire.
I have other moves, but they just
love the way my shadow looks knocked
out of the white hole in the sky.