Hey, wait, I’ve got a new constraint. AMY BILLHARZ
I first saw Doug Nufer when I was in college, at a reading series for a class on poetry and opera. It was a slimy gray night, and a woman in the front row of the auditorium, who appeared to be wrapped in a tarp, snored like a garbage disposal through every reader. No one could wake her. Doug, unfazed, walked onstage and proceeded to read a series of lively, surreal poems, each accompanied by its own dance. The reading’s awkwardness dissolved, the snoring now just another element of delightful weirdness…
