In the archives, old scripts and ledgers. Drawers full of brass coins, beautiful bones of fish. Papery vertebrae, papyrus of skins. Which slot is ours in the collapsible index? Reels of sepia nestled in velvet boxes. The camera focuses: rippling mountain edges armoring hunters' chests. The longest running show— if we stay it's because we want to check that our names appear in the credits.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.