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New England to Detroit to Tucson


Dearborn, MI

We drove from Tucson to New Orleans to Brooklyn for Boog City’s “d.a. levy-palooza 3,” a lil lit fest of independent publishers gathering in a basement to share poetry & music. The reading was intimate. N!’s crew killed it on stage, & the night closed out between a barcade & Korean karaoke bar.


We left NYC for NH, where I grew up, & kicked it around Manchester, a small city ~45 mins North of Boston. Adjusting to the quiet was an uneasy gut feeling. Our plan was to kick it around with family for a week before shooting out to Seattle.

& without delay, between pulling in & the following morning, car troubles began booting us around. Without the money for a mechanic, we rolled guess work like dice, & were blessed with mechanically inclined friends assisting us get our shit together.


Our crew shrank in the North East. Neeko & Yahilda were called back to Tucson, & dipped out via Greyhound from Boston. We dropped em off at the station, wandered Boston’s rain, got drinks & rice at a Chinatown bar, & sobered up for the ride back. Another week of quiet passed before our vehicular troubles wrapped up.

Excited to break the routines 2015’s shows had set, Chris & I pulled hit the road stoked to pushing asphalt behind us snatching miles towards Detroit’s poetry + Michigan homies + Minneapolis hiphop + Dakota fields stretching the horizon green +  glaciers eating Montana + Seattle’s dirty lil street ciphers + Portland cliches + the stretch from the Bay to Tucson that 2015’s experiences clocked habitual.


& immediately our muffler disconnected.

We were pulled over by cops outside Albany, NY, for its roaring. Luckily the past didn’t do more than teethe us over, the cop let us go without a ticket. We pulled the night over in a Walmart lot, & stabbed an exhaust pipe thru our wallets.

We found out after the fact they’d hustled us in our lil corner & snapped up more money than the job was worth.


We met up with an old friend in a black-hole named Erie, PA. He donated a pile of dumpster dove books & lit on New Orleans artists + poets to our traveling bookstore. We kicked in an 80s themed hipster run bar that looked so confused with what it wanted to be that it knew exactly what it wanted to be.

books and shovels.jpg

Off we went, fingers crossed to till blood. Veins in my forehead pulsed. Night fell over Ohio. I passed out nearing Cleveland. Chris took the wheel.

I woke to an electric spread of factories & the rank smell of automation. We were nearing Detroit.

We didn’t intend to spend much time here. Again, intent. Again, car issues.

Nearly two weeks in the Detroit metro passed. We hit some open mics, Russel hiphop shows, bopped around Woodward, killed time till we had the car sorted out. With wallets drained, a potentially lost job, & desert obligations heating up, we straight shot back, two days & a stop in St. Louis, & pulled in to Tucson with those cliche road-worn eyes.

We’re now kicking it out here thru July. Up back North to the NYC Poetry Festival we go, then a gig in Denver, followed by looping down back to Tucson & out to New Orleans. If you’re on the way, or interested in putting up a show, hit us up, & let’s do some MTV unplugged soft carpet house poetry readings.

w/ desert love, cheers!

back in tucosn.jpg


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