Recommended by Ricardo Soltero-Brown

A mesmerizing poetry on the mythic and cosmic connections of self-actualization, divine creation, holy and worldly inspiration, earth, God, beauty, life, and wo-mankind. A soul-stirring feast for the senses, a challenge and a charge; a reflection of all that is out and in. Daley-Sharif's play is a gorgeous, humbling work.

One of the most deft political satires that I've read in a long time. It will no doubt serve as a devastating component in any evening of sketches, a standout piece in any charged revue. The exchange is tense, engaging, clinical, bewildering, brutal, awful, awe-full, abrasive, subversive, layered, straightforward, liberating, and liberated. Exemplary, truly; a bravura work of art.

I have a deep belief that Strindberg would study this play to Time's end.

This twelve-page wonder by playwright Jagernauth opens with a back-and-forth bit about hair which made me raise an eyebrow in an effort to hold off heartbreak. It's a hell of a way to start a play. It's followed by the fudge of a forgotten present, and it's at this point just how clear and honest this genuine piece about friendship is going to be. Even the express enquiries of absent acquaintances ring true. This is just how best friends are. The turn comes to a ticket booth attendant. The last half is so deft in metaphor, I cannot ruin it.

We don't really get many gems like this anymore, do we? These bawdy, serio-silly works that were so common amongst the 60s and 70s, from Sam Shepard, Peter and Anthony Shaffer, works of genre, works of plot, and debased laughter. There was a time that people fought for this. I'm here to tell you, I still will.

Anyone who suddenly became bold enough, curious enough, or determined enough about understanding, or willing to investigate their background will appreciate this play, because there's no promise it will be pretty. The promise is it will be rewarding, perhaps only to your personal, individual soul. Nevertheless. A brief, brave, bracing piece of literature worthy of every advantage any form of Drama could acquire or require, this lovely short asks you to extend yourself, to attend what ever may be asked of your being. This's the entire point of theatre, a universal application of that elusive practicality, that radical idea: empathy.

Tracey Conyer Lee's outstanding one-woman show is a testament to the use of art in addressing pain, a story about familial and bodily (dis)functions. From an out-of-commission alcoholic father to a pair of poop and pee stories, the night is full of tales and imagery you won't readily forget. The philosophical, existential correlations this character makes are not only anchored by amazing rhetoric and humor, but each is ultimately surprising. She settles truths in ways we don't see coming. A tour de force, surely, for the brave, hardworking actress who commits to this evening of misfortune, patience, and survival.

This dazzling charmer by Steven Hayet brings to mind the short comedies of Anton Chekhov, some of my favorite writings. Mike's formality is both too much for his own good and it's absolutely what's most endearing about him; perhaps that's why it reminds me of Chekhov: it is and it isn't his fault. The whole thing is a lesson in humor. The ultimate moment of clarity, the revealing explanation, the bit about the five-year plans had me laughing so hard that I lost my place.

Disturbing, tragic, scary, the whole night works as a cautionary tale on how easily, how commonly this behavior occurs.

Burbano has a play here rooted in the identity crisis so many in Latin@ culture have, and it gets even more complicated, becomes nerve-wrackingly delicate when Arinda's views and pre-PC way of speaking conflict with her daughter Julia's sensitive state and circumstance. This is a fine glimpse of two Latinas considering where it is they actually are in this country, as well as what they are, and what this country deems them to be.