Rehearsals
Why do I hold my clean hands under hot water until they sting? My tongue aches from rehearsals. Silver chutes shoot my open eyes. Stiff slanting wings lift our bodies resting above clouds — breathing, dreaming. Trust loosens our shoes, unpegs belts cinched around our expanding profit motives. Trust will settle us down to Earth. Bright shields of elastic goose flesh. Wet maps wrinkle in my hot palms. I would dovetail all my hinges! Lets love our flaws above each wave. Counting freckles until we land...
Read MoreReview: A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Love can be dreamlike. One minute, it's strong as a compass; the next it's completely transformed into doubt and confusion. One minute, lovers feel lighthearted, skipping around the room as if clutching pink balloons; the next, lovers may feel bereft and confused. In the Philadelphia Shakespeare Theater's production of William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, the company captures that ephemeral quality of love, with a pared-down performance in the round.
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