Monsters

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Chris Bullard’s poetry is known for its dystopian view of contemporary civilization. Combining images of innocence and a hard-won experience, the humanity of Bullard’s poetry is shaped by images of hope and despair. In these monologues for the stage, he explores the inner monsters which can transform our mundane innocence and good intentions into dimensions which stagger the imagination. The white knights of fairy tales cross moats of ineffable longing. Read Chris Bullard and you will learn a thing or two about the terrifyingly close relationship between the dangerous and the beautiful. -Mora Egan Although my body took up residence in Hell, my left arm continued to live in Heaven. I could visit my arm, but only at irregular intervals when a shuttle would transport me to a checkpoint at the border between Heaven and Hell. There, I sat on one side of a room that was divided by barbed wire. My arm rested on the other side of the wire although the fingers of my left hand were allowed to stroke the fingers of my right hand while I told my left arm about how things were going in Hell. (Lifts his right arm and wraps his fingers around the barbed wire, sighs) The only other person I saw at the checkpoint was a blind man who came to visit his eyes. -From Half a Loaf