Last night the mouth of the earth spewed up fire. One girl said she felt strange, her limbs heavy. She said her blood, "felt like turning into honey." When she burst into blossom we were on the volcano. Her cry was more like a trumpet, it came out of mouth turning from mouth into petalled coronet. The end of it was nothing but the tremble of a white flower on a vine.
Poet and performer JL Williams is particularly interested in expanding dialogues through poetry across languages, perspectives and cultures and in cross-form work, visual art, opera and theatre.Read more about this poet