Literary Creatures

As summer shifted into fall, Literary Creatures tumbled miraculously into place. There were loose plans–very loose, like the soil of a newly burnt field, simply waiting for growth to come find it. An idea of black-light, of a synthesizer; of a typewriter poem and a room dressed in ethereal plantlife. After years of scattering tiny seeds of what Literary Creaturescould be, I signed up for Philadelphia’s Fringe Festival. It felt on the surface like a whim pulled along by the project’s deeper desires: a desire to manifest, to remain fixed, to morph into a concrete experience; an event.