about   selected works   publications etc.    contact

excerpt from
Growing Up Everywhere and Nowhere in Peter and the Starcatcher
by Pangdemonium

“There is something insidiously dark in each of these moments, yet at that instant of witnessing them I can only register a slight distaste in my mouth without being able to articulate why. The audience laughs, and I find myself chuckling along, uncertain of myself. What is the function of laughter, and what do we miss when we laugh? I allow myself an hour or so of thoughtlessness, and sure enough, Starcatcher leaves no room for me to pause and regather my thoughts. Laughter feels almost like an opioid, and I wonder what it is that Starcatcher is trying to distract us from. In the lightheartedness of theatre, we forget that laughter can sometimes be a poison, or more mildly put, a way to make reality more palatable. It does not provide a cure.”

excerpts from et al.
(working title),

a version of these poems was first submitted for GPA (2017) 

[1] elsewhere, a cane spots
next to the public pool, still

bloodstained after nine years.
a decontextualized flashback:

sign of pathology. to experience
the memory of semen while eating

breakfast is to know easy
spreads jam, seeps into bread

cerebral atrophy. the cane appears
next to a traffic light, crosses

the road with me, flashing
red. the taste of strawberries it

knows better than i do. it knows
how much a body can

take, the softest parts of my
skin: inner thigh new to touch.

[1] Childhood Trauma, Psychosis and Schizophrenia: A Literature Review with Theoretical and Clinical Implications.Written by Read, J., J. van Os, A. P. Morrison, and C. A. Ross in 2005. A paper I read in desperation to make sense of, to parse. Strand by strand, raffia around my neck.

[2] to examine the semantics of ceramic:
(1) coldness to touch, (2) part-bone
for added strength. on his account, she

rediscovered language after allowing light
(a singular point) into the living room. her
fragmentary psyche creates an injunction

to silence. in other words, she no longer
remembers coherence. in other
words, the urn at the foot

of her bed, burn
of breakfast, close
of day. in other

words, she inherits
only nameless fears, a grain of rice
at the bottom of his ceramic bowl.

[2] Healing the Wounds of Our Fathers: Intergenerational Trauma, Memory, Symbolization and Narrative. Written by Connolly, Angela, 2011, asphyxiation between pages 607 to 627 of the Journal of Analytical Psychology, Issue 56. A wound inflicted by another, twisting knife. I follow the blade and found my own hand holding its grip.