Shadow Puppet Theatre

When I can't quite take another minute of suburban living I hop in the car and head straight for the East Village in downtown Manhattan. Artist-graphic designer-poet extraordinaire Jenn Drue, is sure to drag me to a bohemian nightclub or wacky performance gig to mingle with eccentric characters. Last night was no exception. When I finally found parking, we thought we were late for the 7pm 'Shadow Puppet Theatre' show so we ran like crazy up and down blocks on the Lower East side. Dodging traffic and potholes we arrived with zero seconds to spare. The deserted building was splashed with graffiti, spray paint, posters and tags. The neighborhood epitomized pop and punk culture and I knew immediately it was the panacea I drove here for. We lifted the black curtain to discover we were early by an entire hour. One hour of beer and fries at the corner pub later and the show started.

First up a slam poetry tag-team by the name of Alixa and Naima. They slam about activism, racial justice, prison abolition and gay equality. Their words are so poignant and body language so powerful that I didn't mind sitting on a crowded dirty floor for hours. I could have done with a little less shadow puppets but this sample from a favorite called BEING HUMAN by Naima quickly made up for it.

I wonder if the sun debates dawn
some mornings
not wanting to rise
out of bed
from under the down-feather horizon

If the sky grows tired
of being everywhere at once
adapting to the mood swings of the weather

If the clouds drift off
trying to hold themselves together
make deals with gravity
to loiter a little longer

I wonder if rain is scared
of falling
if it has trouble letting go

If snow flakes get sick
of being perfect all the time
each one trying to be one-of-a-kind

I wonder if stars wish
upon themselves before the die
if they need to teach their young to shine

I wonder if shadows long
to once feel the sun
if they get lost in the shuffle
not knowing where they’re from

I wonder if sunrise and sunset
respect each other
even though they’ve never met

If volcanoes get stressed
If storms have regrets
If compost believes in life after death

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