I've Often Lost Myself, In

Relish The Fresh Landscape Of My Wound, Break Rushes And Delicate Rivulets, Drink Blood Poured On Honeyed Thigh.

...i Am The Immense Shadow Of My Tears

My God, I Have Come With The Seeds Of Questions. I Planted Them, And They Never Flowered.

My Head Is Full Of Fire And Grief And My Tongue Runs Wild, Pierced With Shards Of Glass.

Theatre Is Poetry That Rises From The Book And Becomes Human Enough To Talk And Shout, Weep And Despair