Last week there was an eclipse and a new moon. There was a cool, rich, sharp darkness bedecked with hard stars and a distant sense of a new season being imminent. Into this flawless  backdrop walked Mikes' Pearson and Brookes, for the National Theatre of Wales, with 'Storm 1; Nothing Remains the Same'. I drove down from Aber along a snaking and unfamiliar road, remembering other Pearson induced drives in mystery buses, until finally erupting into an eerily deserted Ystrad Fle

The other week, I was asked if I wanted to go and see a play about Blodeuwedd. Of course, I said yes - especially when I saw that it was an adaptation of Saunders Lewis' 'Woman of Flowers'. I decided to retain just that information alone though, having quite enough of a back catalogue of political dissention about the infamous playwright with which to colour my view without adding more to it, thus making sure that I knew nothing more about either Sion Eirian, or Theatr Pena,

On February 9th, 2018, I attended 'Beyond My Control', a performance about epilepsy, at Aberystwyth Arts Centre. Well, that's not quite true. It wasn't about epilepsy, as such, it was a performative explanation of the latest research into the mathematical modelling of epilepsy. It was Sci Art on the stage. The premise was devised by Exeter Northcott Theatre's Artistic Director, Paul Jepson, and a mathematician at the University of Exeter, Professor John Terry. It is described

I vote in trousers with my mother's surname - still you touch me I designed my own home and own the ground on which it stands - yet still you touch me I choose to bear sons my daughters also - but still you touch me I went to school grades as high as the steeple - although you still touch me I am your doctor and your lawyer your teacher, accountant, leutenant and crew - and still you touch me I fell with Emily and stand hungry at no man's door - however still, you touch me Wh

When I create 'found' poems from academic writing people sometimes remark that it can only reflect what is already being said in the parent text. Whilst that is often the case - and the point - here is an example of how that is not necessarily inevitable. This following poem sits in disagreement with the prose from which it is derived, the original for which can be found in the New York Times, here. Was Australopithecus an Artist? by Jason Farago, feb 1st 2018. The Nasher Sc

'Two Kings, After Frost' Two Kings, they met by a medieval motte Leaving their bodies behind. Both being travellers, long ago they’d stood Together by the Irish sea, deep as they could To where it covered the submerged trees. One was as tall as the sun was fair, And had perhaps the better claim Because his kingdom was grassy and lived by men, Though the other was older, not just passing through, Time had worn them about the same. But both this season equally lie In state besi