show

Haunted by want/Guided by don't-need
written and performed by Rachel Kann

This one-woman-poetry-performance-piece is a 13 months- compressed into a little over 30 minutes- rollercoaster ride through loneliness, lust, love, hurt, overcoming, cars, moons, and 1000 twinkling stars.

If you have ever had your heart peed upon, if you ever thought you would never get that jerk/demigod out of your poor little head, if you have ever felt like you'd be all lonely and pathetic forever, or if you just want a peek into Rachel's wacky world of romance, pain, and (hopefully) eventual clarity, then you will be feeling this show.

Who is the lover who could induce such poetry in Rachel? That you may never know, but rest assured you'll think it was your ex, because you will feel like she took these exact words right out of your mind and mouth. And since you're just watching, not living through it, you'll even be able to laugh at it this time around.

Funny and sad, harsh and comforting, just like real life, Haunted by want/Guided by don't need is more than just a poetry feature, so hold on to your hats and glasses, cause this here's the wildest ride in the wilderness.

The rollercoaster ride starts like this:

we call this month December,
and my hands ache
to cradle
the shape
of my guitar (which i am still unable to really play,)

and they call this month December,
and my throat
closes
choking around
the sound
of throttles
of songs (with which i am unable to sing along,)

and we say it's December
and we pray we remember
the feeling
of the heat
coming up from the summer street

and somewhere,
he's thinking,

"she was sweet-skinned and twisted with lime"

and meanwhile i'm
driving
while
reapplying
Floridian lotion
considering the ocean
and the motion of hips which twitch with devotion
to the cause

and i'm reinterpreting self perscribed laws,

and i'm undescribing by saving some words for later,

and we wait,

or we walk away,

but for today,

all i can say, is,

i am praying inside of
i am staying inside of
i am trying inside of
the wet walls
of the wanting lobby
of the month somebody named December

steering with my knee
dreaming of the notion
that i could fuck or make love to or out of my own emotion
(maybe with the assistance of the memory of the scent of that lotion)

i peek inside the prettily presented present
(paradoxically, because I am it,)

like a blind man
i see with my fingers
reading the language written inside
memorizing letters
and glyphs
and pictographs
but also bass and treble clefs
and i measure the beat with my measured breath

and i realize
all i really need is the person who knows me best
to get
me through
this

this

cherub lovin'
money grubbin'
motherfuckin'
month
somebody christened December

this

all your fun takin'
happy cheer fakin'
frozen heart breakin'
month
they named December.