Composer Mark Engebretson is busy stealing the souls of those in near proximity, injecting shards and shreds directly into the fabric of his music. Dexterity and virtuosity guide explorations that push boundaries of creator, performer and listener. (Without difficulty, how do you know you’re any good?)

Rachel York slaps the bass, and who knows, she may even sing a tune or two. One way or the other, she’ll get hooked up to a digital alterizer and beat the drum of participatory democracy. (Lo! the computer is participating in the process of this poem!).

Brian Lampkin is an unreliable narrator of his own history, but you can be sure of this: poems were written in between other acts of every day heroism and embarrassment. (are the words left to trail off through time and space to be picked up by alien antennae tuned to the all-demise-all-the-time channel of the stars.)

Please standby.