I did the math and realized if I get $50 to $100 bucks a night plus sell chapbooks, on average I’m going to make a hundred dollars a night which is a ten hour a day, ten dollar an hour job with no taxes taken out. I won’t have rent because I will be living in my car, so I’ll be making just as much as I already am, with my college degree. And living out my little dream, my little delusion of rock star grandeur, um…as a poet. So I just did it. I booked it two months out.
My secret desire to rap began somewhere in the awkwardness of high school when I heard a couple of older kids rapping along to the Minneapolis based hip-hop group Atmosphere: “I’m bigger than Jesus and bigger than wrestling, bigger than the Beatles, and bigger than breast implants..
“I wish that my relationship to my poetry was all skinny dipping and swashbuckling,”
“I’ve been amazed at how willing the Muse is to squeeze into a new mother’s chaotic schedule. There’s no time to sit around waiting for her arrival.”
“I would like my art at its core to be a statement of faith: faith in my own artistic impulses and faith in the capacity of humans to honor expressed creativity.”