A Tunnel Year

Available in Library

A Tunnel Year is a three-part book with a play at its center, built from a few years’ worth of interrupted thoughts crammed into one-line scenes voiced by animals. Germinated in the Bardo of parenthood and compelled to work in the form of the fragment, it asks: Did I escape? Or am I lost?

First part performable prose poem; second part play; third part take-home essay printed on broadsheet.

Read Sample

A small dog rides a luxury elevator, alone. There is a large potted fern, an armchair, and a Persian rug. The dog sighs and music plays.

It’s my exit music.

A cat shows a surrealist film that intercuts zoomed-in footage of a wildebeest stampede with an animation of a white arrow traveling through a black field. The cat pauses the film.

This film is so stupid.

A macaw is hiding in a compartment of an RV.

I climbed in when no one was looking.

A dog rides in the passenger seat of a Subaru, with the window down. Snout out.

I was always an ambitious dog. But for what?

A mouse sits in the window of a moving model of the International Space Station in a science museum.

Sunrise every ninety minutes, so I rarely feel well rested.

A cow stands beneath a large tree full of rooks, dripping milk from her udders, listening.

I was interested in taking my thinking away from the neutral, which is actually a very private, hard-to-articulate thing to do.

An escaped raccoon loiters near the fence of its just-escaped enclosure.

I have a preemptive sadness for the future state of things.

A pony floats in outer space

This is no good.

Cast Requirements


Production and Development History

Creativity Fund, New Dramatists, June 2016

Chocolate Factory Theater, Dec. 2016, installation and live radio play