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This is the cover for There's Always This Year. This book has lived in my brain since 2017, and I spent the past year in the process of detangling what's in my head, of doing my best to align the limitlessness of my dreaming with the very real limits of my abilities. It is out on March 26th of next year. There’s the the myth of "aboutness," or the desire to attribute a single shorthand to a product, to suggest that it is "about" one thing. But, in my experience, no moment -- no entry, no exit, nothing in between, can be affixed to a single thing. For example, I could tell you "this book is about basketball," but also, I arrived and departed from several lives to get to this specific life. I thought, sitting down, that I was writing a book “about” basketball, but basketball was the translation tool through which I was running several additional concerns. Who gets to make it out of a place. Who never wants to make it out of anywhere. And, mostly, my own questions about what to do with the realities of aging. I have aged now (well) beyond the years I planned, or expected to. I've outlived my own imagination for myself, sometimes spectacularly, but not always. And so, that means I have to (and GET to) rebuild my imagination for my living as it’s happening. There's gratitude in that, but there's also heartbreak, confusion. So, ok, If you like reading about basketball, you'll find that in here. If you like reading about Ohio in the 90s and early 00s, yep. If you like reading about longing, and songs about pleading, and airplanes and astronauts and Toni Morrison, yes. But also, when you live past the time you allotted for yourself, you get a new clock. And so it's a book of learning to tend to my hours and minutes. Was a joy to work with Ben Greenberg and Maya Millett once again. I wish you could have it today, I will miss having it as just my own. Not every person gets a chance to make and offer things to the world that might outlive them, and I'm so thankful to have had six chances to do it now, and I really believe I did a good job this time. I hope you'll preorder this. I hope you’ll share it with someone who might be into it. Links to that in the bio.

This is the cover for There's Always This Year. This book has lived in my brain since 2017, and I spent the past year in the process of detangling what's in my head, of doing my best to align the limitlessness of my dreaming with the very real limits of my abilities. It is out on March 26th of next year. There’s the the myth of "aboutness," or the desire to attribute a single shorthand to a product, to suggest that it is "about" one thing. But, in my experience, no moment -- no entry, no exit, nothing in between, can be affixed to a single thing. For example, I could tell you "this book is about basketball," but also, I arrived and departed from several lives to get to this specific life. I thought, sitting down, that I was writing a book “about” basketball, but basketball was the translation tool through which I was running several additional concerns. Who gets to make it out of a place. Who never wants to make it out of anywhere. And, mostly, my own questions about what to do with the realities of aging. I have aged now (well) beyond the years I planned, or expected to. I've outlived my own imagination for myself, sometimes spectacularly, but not always. And so, that means I have to (and GET to) rebuild my imagination for my living as it’s happening. There's gratitude in that, but there's also heartbreak, confusion. So, ok, If you like reading about basketball, you'll find that in here. If you like reading about Ohio in the 90s and early 00s, yep. If you like reading about longing, and songs about pleading, and airplanes and astronauts and Toni Morrison, yes. But also, when you live past the time you allotted for yourself, you get a new clock. And so it's a book of learning to tend to my hours and minutes. Was a joy to work with Ben Greenberg and Maya Millett once again. I wish you could have it today, I will miss having it as just my own. Not every person gets a chance to make and offer things to the world that might outlive them, and I'm so thankful to have had six chances to do it now, and I really believe I did a good job this time. I hope you'll preorder this. I hope you’ll share it with someone who might be into it. Links to that in the bio.

This is the cover for There's Always This Year. This book has lived in my brain since 2017, and I spent the past year in the process of detangling what's in my head, of doing my best to align the limitlessness of my dreaming with the very real limits of my abilities. It is out on March 26th of next year. There’s the the myth of "aboutness," or the desire to attribute a single shorthand to a product, to suggest that it is "about" one thing. But, in my experience, no moment -- no entry, no exit, nothing in between, can be affixed to a single thing. For example, I could tell you "this book is about basketball," but also, I arrived and departed from several lives to get to this specific life. I thought, sitting down, that I was writing a book “about” basketball, but basketball was the translation tool through which I was running several additional concerns. Who gets to make it out of a place. Who never wants to make it out of anywhere. And, mostly, my own questions about what to do with the realities of aging. I have aged now (well) beyond the years I planned, or expected to. I've outlived my own imagination for myself, sometimes spectacularly, but not always. And so, that means I have to (and GET to) rebuild my imagination for my living as it’s happening. There's gratitude in that, but there's also heartbreak, confusion. So, ok, If you like reading about basketball, you'll find that in here. If you like reading about Ohio in the 90s and early 00s, yep. If you like reading about longing, and songs about pleading, and airplanes and astronauts and Toni Morrison, yes. But also, when you live past the time you allotted for yourself, you get a new clock. And so it's a book of learning to tend to my hours and minutes. Was a joy to work with Ben Greenberg and Maya Millett once again. I wish you could have it today, I will miss having it as just my own. Not every person gets a chance to make and offer things to the world that might outlive them, and I'm so thankful to have had six chances to do it now, and I really believe I did a good job this time. I hope you'll preorder this. I hope you’ll share it with someone who might be into it. Links to that in the bio.

This is the cover for There's Always This Year. This book has lived in my brain since 2017, and I spent the past year in the process of detangling what's in my head, of doing my best to align the limitlessness of my dreaming with the very real limits of my abilities. It is out on March 26th of next year. There’s the the myth of "aboutness," or the desire to attribute a single shorthand to a product, to suggest that it is "about" one thing. But, in my experience, no moment -- no entry, no exit, nothing in between, can be affixed to a single thing. For example, I could tell you "this book is about basketball," but also, I arrived and departed from several lives to get to this specific life. I thought, sitting down, that I was writing a book “about” basketball, but basketball was the translation tool through which I was running several additional concerns. Who gets to make it out of a place. Who never wants to make it out of anywhere. And, mostly, my own questions about what to do with the realities of aging. I have aged now (well) beyond the years I planned, or expected to. I've outlived my own imagination for myself, sometimes spectacularly, but not always. And so, that means I have to (and GET to) rebuild my imagination for my living as it’s happening. There's gratitude in that, but there's also heartbreak, confusion. So, ok, If you like reading about basketball, you'll find that in here. If you like reading about Ohio in the 90s and early 00s, yep. If you like reading about longing, and songs about pleading, and airplanes and astronauts and Toni Morrison, yes. But also, when you live past the time you allotted for yourself, you get a new clock. And so it's a book of learning to tend to my hours and minutes. Was a joy to work with Ben Greenberg and Maya Millett once again. I wish you could have it today, I will miss having it as just my own. Not every person gets a chance to make and offer things to the world that might outlive them, and I'm so thankful to have had six chances to do it now, and I really believe I did a good job this time. I hope you'll preorder this. I hope you’ll share it with someone who might be into it. Links to that in the bio.

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

So much gratitude to @hube.magazine for doing a little convo and photoshoot with me for their new issue, which you can and should get because I am probably the LEAST cool and interesting person in it, which is a testament to the the lineup. I talked a lot about my usuals: place, poetry, trying to dismantle hierarchy in the name of shared experience. I have so much gratitude for the space and opportunity.

I showed up for this photoshoot straight off of a plane! @whittanyrobinson made sure my hair and face looked good and fixed the Headphone Dent in my hair! @thedavidjaffe did all of the lighting! These are not my clothes, at all! The very talented and thoughtful @miltonmania and @alana__powell and @olaoluwaolajide styled me in cool things! These are good photos because they were taken by the brilliant @jesperdlund! Who was also very kind and good at making a comfortable space! I am not great at long photoshoots but this collective of people made it feel like such a breeze and I’m glad these photos accompany my yapping. Please grab a copy of the new issue of @hube.magazine!

When Hanif Abdurraqib was born, his father sang the call to prayer in his ear—a melody that has echoed onward through his life. “I’m not a singer,” admits the Ohio-based writer, “I can’t sing well and I don’t attempt to sing often. However…l like to think that poetry most commonly stumbles towards me in the sense of song. I talk about paying close attention to the world, and what I mean is paying close attention to the sounds and small movements in the world and trying to arrange them in a way that has a musicality and a beauty to it.”

His writing is energetic and tender, marked by breathless urgency and a lyrical precision that recognises the potential of every word and sentence. A believer in the co-authorship of art and life, @nifmuhammad says he writes in search of shared revelation: “I’m always seeking that specific common ground with others… to say, you aren’t going to feel exactly as I feel, but you might come close, and in that closeness we might connect.”

We hope that the conversation featured in our SS26 issue will inspire you to explore this possibility further. Follow the link in our bio to get your copy.

Talent: @nifmuhammad
Photographer: @jesperdlund
Stylist: @miltonmania
Makeup and Hair Artist: @whittanyrobinson
Producer: @lolacorfixen
Lighting Director: @thedavidjaffe
Photo Assistant: @eugenetsai9999
Styling Assistants: @alana__powell, @olaoluwaolajide
EIC hube: @alekskovaleva
Creative & Fashion Director hube: @gabriella.norberg
Art Direction: @hube.creators

#HanifAbdurraqib #hubemagazine

When Hanif Abdurraqib was born, his father sang the call to prayer in his ear—a melody that has echoed onward through his life. “I’m not a singer,” admits the Ohio-based writer, “I can’t sing well and I don’t attempt to sing often. However…l like to think that poetry most commonly stumbles towards me in the sense of song. I talk about paying close attention to the world, and what I mean is paying close attention to the sounds and small movements in the world and trying to arrange them in a way that has a musicality and a beauty to it.”

His writing is energetic and tender, marked by breathless urgency and a lyrical precision that recognises the potential of every word and sentence. A believer in the co-authorship of art and life, @nifmuhammad says he writes in search of shared revelation: “I’m always seeking that specific common ground with others… to say, you aren’t going to feel exactly as I feel, but you might come close, and in that closeness we might connect.”

We hope that the conversation featured in our SS26 issue will inspire you to explore this possibility further. Follow the link in our bio to get your copy.

Talent: @nifmuhammad
Photographer: @jesperdlund
Stylist: @miltonmania
Makeup and Hair Artist: @whittanyrobinson
Producer: @lolacorfixen
Lighting Director: @thedavidjaffe
Photo Assistant: @eugenetsai9999
Styling Assistants: @alana__powell, @olaoluwaolajide
EIC hube: @alekskovaleva
Creative & Fashion Director hube: @gabriella.norberg
Art Direction: @hube.creators

#HanifAbdurraqib #hubemagazine

When Hanif Abdurraqib was born, his father sang the call to prayer in his ear—a melody that has echoed onward through his life. “I’m not a singer,” admits the Ohio-based writer, “I can’t sing well and I don’t attempt to sing often. However…l like to think that poetry most commonly stumbles towards me in the sense of song. I talk about paying close attention to the world, and what I mean is paying close attention to the sounds and small movements in the world and trying to arrange them in a way that has a musicality and a beauty to it.”

His writing is energetic and tender, marked by breathless urgency and a lyrical precision that recognises the potential of every word and sentence. A believer in the co-authorship of art and life, @nifmuhammad says he writes in search of shared revelation: “I’m always seeking that specific common ground with others… to say, you aren’t going to feel exactly as I feel, but you might come close, and in that closeness we might connect.”

We hope that the conversation featured in our SS26 issue will inspire you to explore this possibility further. Follow the link in our bio to get your copy.

Talent: @nifmuhammad
Photographer: @jesperdlund
Stylist: @miltonmania
Makeup and Hair Artist: @whittanyrobinson
Producer: @lolacorfixen
Lighting Director: @thedavidjaffe
Photo Assistant: @eugenetsai9999
Styling Assistants: @alana__powell, @olaoluwaolajide
EIC hube: @alekskovaleva
Creative & Fashion Director hube: @gabriella.norberg
Art Direction: @hube.creators

#HanifAbdurraqib #hubemagazine

When Hanif Abdurraqib was born, his father sang the call to prayer in his ear—a melody that has echoed onward through his life. “I’m not a singer,” admits the Ohio-based writer, “I can’t sing well and I don’t attempt to sing often. However…l like to think that poetry most commonly stumbles towards me in the sense of song. I talk about paying close attention to the world, and what I mean is paying close attention to the sounds and small movements in the world and trying to arrange them in a way that has a musicality and a beauty to it.”

His writing is energetic and tender, marked by breathless urgency and a lyrical precision that recognises the potential of every word and sentence. A believer in the co-authorship of art and life, @nifmuhammad says he writes in search of shared revelation: “I’m always seeking that specific common ground with others… to say, you aren’t going to feel exactly as I feel, but you might come close, and in that closeness we might connect.”

We hope that the conversation featured in our SS26 issue will inspire you to explore this possibility further. Follow the link in our bio to get your copy.

Talent: @nifmuhammad
Photographer: @jesperdlund
Stylist: @miltonmania
Makeup and Hair Artist: @whittanyrobinson
Producer: @lolacorfixen
Lighting Director: @thedavidjaffe
Photo Assistant: @eugenetsai9999
Styling Assistants: @alana__powell, @olaoluwaolajide
EIC hube: @alekskovaleva
Creative & Fashion Director hube: @gabriella.norberg
Art Direction: @hube.creators

#HanifAbdurraqib #hubemagazine

When Hanif Abdurraqib was born, his father sang the call to prayer in his ear—a melody that has echoed onward through his life. “I’m not a singer,” admits the Ohio-based writer, “I can’t sing well and I don’t attempt to sing often. However…l like to think that poetry most commonly stumbles towards me in the sense of song. I talk about paying close attention to the world, and what I mean is paying close attention to the sounds and small movements in the world and trying to arrange them in a way that has a musicality and a beauty to it.”

His writing is energetic and tender, marked by breathless urgency and a lyrical precision that recognises the potential of every word and sentence. A believer in the co-authorship of art and life, @nifmuhammad says he writes in search of shared revelation: “I’m always seeking that specific common ground with others… to say, you aren’t going to feel exactly as I feel, but you might come close, and in that closeness we might connect.”

We hope that the conversation featured in our SS26 issue will inspire you to explore this possibility further. Follow the link in our bio to get your copy.

Talent: @nifmuhammad
Photographer: @jesperdlund
Stylist: @miltonmania
Makeup and Hair Artist: @whittanyrobinson
Producer: @lolacorfixen
Lighting Director: @thedavidjaffe
Photo Assistant: @eugenetsai9999
Styling Assistants: @alana__powell, @olaoluwaolajide
EIC hube: @alekskovaleva
Creative & Fashion Director hube: @gabriella.norberg
Art Direction: @hube.creators

#HanifAbdurraqib #hubemagazine

When Hanif Abdurraqib was born, his father sang the call to prayer in his ear—a melody that has echoed onward through his life. “I’m not a singer,” admits the Ohio-based writer, “I can’t sing well and I don’t attempt to sing often. However…l like to think that poetry most commonly stumbles towards me in the sense of song. I talk about paying close attention to the world, and what I mean is paying close attention to the sounds and small movements in the world and trying to arrange them in a way that has a musicality and a beauty to it.”

His writing is energetic and tender, marked by breathless urgency and a lyrical precision that recognises the potential of every word and sentence. A believer in the co-authorship of art and life, @nifmuhammad says he writes in search of shared revelation: “I’m always seeking that specific common ground with others… to say, you aren’t going to feel exactly as I feel, but you might come close, and in that closeness we might connect.”

We hope that the conversation featured in our SS26 issue will inspire you to explore this possibility further. Follow the link in our bio to get your copy.

Talent: @nifmuhammad
Photographer: @jesperdlund
Stylist: @miltonmania
Makeup and Hair Artist: @whittanyrobinson
Producer: @lolacorfixen
Lighting Director: @thedavidjaffe
Photo Assistant: @eugenetsai9999
Styling Assistants: @alana__powell, @olaoluwaolajide
EIC hube: @alekskovaleva
Creative & Fashion Director hube: @gabriella.norberg
Art Direction: @hube.creators

#HanifAbdurraqib #hubemagazine

When Hanif Abdurraqib was born, his father sang the call to prayer in his ear—a melody that has echoed onward through his life. “I’m not a singer,” admits the Ohio-based writer, “I can’t sing well and I don’t attempt to sing often. However…l like to think that poetry most commonly stumbles towards me in the sense of song. I talk about paying close attention to the world, and what I mean is paying close attention to the sounds and small movements in the world and trying to arrange them in a way that has a musicality and a beauty to it.”

His writing is energetic and tender, marked by breathless urgency and a lyrical precision that recognises the potential of every word and sentence. A believer in the co-authorship of art and life, @nifmuhammad says he writes in search of shared revelation: “I’m always seeking that specific common ground with others… to say, you aren’t going to feel exactly as I feel, but you might come close, and in that closeness we might connect.”

We hope that the conversation featured in our SS26 issue will inspire you to explore this possibility further. Follow the link in our bio to get your copy.

Talent: @nifmuhammad
Photographer: @jesperdlund
Stylist: @miltonmania
Makeup and Hair Artist: @whittanyrobinson
Producer: @lolacorfixen
Lighting Director: @thedavidjaffe
Photo Assistant: @eugenetsai9999
Styling Assistants: @alana__powell, @olaoluwaolajide
EIC hube: @alekskovaleva
Creative & Fashion Director hube: @gabriella.norberg
Art Direction: @hube.creators

#HanifAbdurraqib #hubemagazine

When Hanif Abdurraqib was born, his father sang the call to prayer in his ear—a melody that has echoed onward through his life. “I’m not a singer,” admits the Ohio-based writer, “I can’t sing well and I don’t attempt to sing often. However…l like to think that poetry most commonly stumbles towards me in the sense of song. I talk about paying close attention to the world, and what I mean is paying close attention to the sounds and small movements in the world and trying to arrange them in a way that has a musicality and a beauty to it.”

His writing is energetic and tender, marked by breathless urgency and a lyrical precision that recognises the potential of every word and sentence. A believer in the co-authorship of art and life, @nifmuhammad says he writes in search of shared revelation: “I’m always seeking that specific common ground with others… to say, you aren’t going to feel exactly as I feel, but you might come close, and in that closeness we might connect.”

We hope that the conversation featured in our SS26 issue will inspire you to explore this possibility further. Follow the link in our bio to get your copy.

Talent: @nifmuhammad
Photographer: @jesperdlund
Stylist: @miltonmania
Makeup and Hair Artist: @whittanyrobinson
Producer: @lolacorfixen
Lighting Director: @thedavidjaffe
Photo Assistant: @eugenetsai9999
Styling Assistants: @alana__powell, @olaoluwaolajide
EIC hube: @alekskovaleva
Creative & Fashion Director hube: @gabriella.norberg
Art Direction: @hube.creators

#HanifAbdurraqib #hubemagazine

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

I did my final rotation as the 2025-2026 artist in residence at Stanford last week. Fittingly, one of the closing gestures I took part in was a workshop at Stanford’s Flower Farm with my dearest beloved @samsax1, where we asked people to think of the poem as an offering, something for a person or place they love and miss, and then we had people make individual bouquets in honor of whoever or whatever or wherever they loved, before writing a short ode. It was a very special and grounding experience, to think of how many poems I love (and write) that begin from a place of offering, and how the flower operated from multiple places of offering, sometimes to the broader & undeserving world, sometimes to a Specific Other. I read a poem that I wrote about my best friend’s son, which I think was a good example of a poem’s multiple offerings (it’s an offering to her, but also to him.) It was a special day! I made this bouquet myself! I’m pretty much a professional florist I guess! @harry3oi came out to the farm and took these photos, which I’m grateful for. All of them by him except the last one, which is by me.

It is Wendy’s birthday. She is eleven. I’ve had her since she was four. I love her so much. I’m very glad she found me and I found her. I think we’ve done a really good job taking care of each other. I’m very proud of us.

It is Wendy’s birthday. She is eleven. I’ve had her since she was four. I love her so much. I’m very glad she found me and I found her. I think we’ve done a really good job taking care of each other. I’m very proud of us.

It is Wendy’s birthday. She is eleven. I’ve had her since she was four. I love her so much. I’m very glad she found me and I found her. I think we’ve done a really good job taking care of each other. I’m very proud of us.

It is Wendy’s birthday. She is eleven. I’ve had her since she was four. I love her so much. I’m very glad she found me and I found her. I think we’ve done a really good job taking care of each other. I’m very proud of us.

It is Wendy’s birthday. She is eleven. I’ve had her since she was four. I love her so much. I’m very glad she found me and I found her. I think we’ve done a really good job taking care of each other. I’m very proud of us.

It is Wendy’s birthday. She is eleven. I’ve had her since she was four. I love her so much. I’m very glad she found me and I found her. I think we’ve done a really good job taking care of each other. I’m very proud of us.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

Hello everyone. when people ask me “what have you been working on?” I usually say “a few things, all at once” which is true, but this year I’ve specifically been saying “…I’ve been working on this big thing in Detroit that I think is gonna be really cool.” — I spent parts of January and February in Detroit with a brilliant team of people, making @livingforthecitypod, seeking out and talking to pioneers and legends and practitioners of Detroit’s brilliant and robust (and massively influential) music histories. I sat with people ranging from Carl Craig to Isiah Thomas to a group of high school students making their own techno instrumentals. I really wanted to go to Detroit and have these people speak for themselves and have their work be put on this pedestal, because I love the city and I’m especially fascinated by and thankful for the musical impact and influence that Detroit has had on the world, and I think stories of place and sound are incredibly important, particularly as people seemingly become less interested in origins or history or the stories from people who were there and who continue to be there. We made a really cool thing that isn’t a shorthand summary of a place. It is immersive and alive, and I think it is also very gripping, at points triumphant and at points heartbreaking. The first episode is out tomorrow, and a new episode will drop every week. You can follow along at @livingforthecitypod, you can hear the show wherever you listen to podcast things, you can also watch the episodes on YouTube (which I would recommend! People show me a lot of cool old things that you will want to see!) — I really loved making this and I think you will like it, and I hope you will watch/listen and spread the word.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

I love this photo of both my parents together. Last year, when talking about it, I said that I loved it because it reminded me that I have definitely inherited my father’s face, but everything my face DOES — my smile, my expressions and how easily they arrive and how hard they are to hide, the way my face can look slightly angry when focusing on something or someone I love — all of that comes from my mother. And so, it is like my father built the plane, but my mother is flying it. If anyone if feeling the ache of loss today, I hope some gratitude emerges for you, somewhere. For me, I think often about how my mother created a life that continues to grow all around me in her absence, even without me noticing it happening. I have a life, and so she still has a life.

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Long as people feeling it, I can hustle it

(Photos 2, 6, 7, 12 by @ilse.rzvphoto)

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

Said Six, Really Meant It

very thankful for the Brooklyn Academy Of Music, an institution that took a chance on me a little over five years ago and has really allowed me to build a creative home in a corner of Brooklyn. Last night was my fourth time attending the annual BAM Gala (remember that one year they let me HOST it and I made David Byrne laugh out loud on stage?? I think about it every day.) — every time I spend time at BAM I find myself very moved by how tenured so many people are. Artists and curators and administrators and stage workers who have been there for decades, building things. Five years in, I hope I get to be so lucky. Also last night someone who apparently knows me too well said “you look great tonight, are you wearing some dusty old vintage band shirt underneath that?” And I was nervously like…NO…I’m wearing a…very plain…black..:nah I’m wearing a shirt from the 80s with holes in it you got me

very thankful for the Brooklyn Academy Of Music, an institution that took a chance on me a little over five years ago and has really allowed me to build a creative home in a corner of Brooklyn. Last night was my fourth time attending the annual BAM Gala (remember that one year they let me HOST it and I made David Byrne laugh out loud on stage?? I think about it every day.) — every time I spend time at BAM I find myself very moved by how tenured so many people are. Artists and curators and administrators and stage workers who have been there for decades, building things. Five years in, I hope I get to be so lucky. Also last night someone who apparently knows me too well said “you look great tonight, are you wearing some dusty old vintage band shirt underneath that?” And I was nervously like…NO…I’m wearing a…very plain…black..:nah I’m wearing a shirt from the 80s with holes in it you got me

very thankful for the Brooklyn Academy Of Music, an institution that took a chance on me a little over five years ago and has really allowed me to build a creative home in a corner of Brooklyn. Last night was my fourth time attending the annual BAM Gala (remember that one year they let me HOST it and I made David Byrne laugh out loud on stage?? I think about it every day.) — every time I spend time at BAM I find myself very moved by how tenured so many people are. Artists and curators and administrators and stage workers who have been there for decades, building things. Five years in, I hope I get to be so lucky. Also last night someone who apparently knows me too well said “you look great tonight, are you wearing some dusty old vintage band shirt underneath that?” And I was nervously like…NO…I’m wearing a…very plain…black..:nah I’m wearing a shirt from the 80s with holes in it you got me

very thankful for the Brooklyn Academy Of Music, an institution that took a chance on me a little over five years ago and has really allowed me to build a creative home in a corner of Brooklyn. Last night was my fourth time attending the annual BAM Gala (remember that one year they let me HOST it and I made David Byrne laugh out loud on stage?? I think about it every day.) — every time I spend time at BAM I find myself very moved by how tenured so many people are. Artists and curators and administrators and stage workers who have been there for decades, building things. Five years in, I hope I get to be so lucky. Also last night someone who apparently knows me too well said “you look great tonight, are you wearing some dusty old vintage band shirt underneath that?” And I was nervously like…NO…I’m wearing a…very plain…black..:nah I’m wearing a shirt from the 80s with holes in it you got me

very thankful for the Brooklyn Academy Of Music, an institution that took a chance on me a little over five years ago and has really allowed me to build a creative home in a corner of Brooklyn. Last night was my fourth time attending the annual BAM Gala (remember that one year they let me HOST it and I made David Byrne laugh out loud on stage?? I think about it every day.) — every time I spend time at BAM I find myself very moved by how tenured so many people are. Artists and curators and administrators and stage workers who have been there for decades, building things. Five years in, I hope I get to be so lucky. Also last night someone who apparently knows me too well said “you look great tonight, are you wearing some dusty old vintage band shirt underneath that?” And I was nervously like…NO…I’m wearing a…very plain…black..:nah I’m wearing a shirt from the 80s with holes in it you got me

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

We’re gonna get outta here if we gotta ride a greyhound bus

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.

The institutions where I learned to love and make poetry were the institution of the open mic, the institution of the poetry slam, the institution of books being passed around so frequently that they lose their origin point. This means that most of the poets who were and are most important to me are still living, some of them not much older than I am now. Aracelis Girmay is my favorite living writer. If there is a Jenga tower that represents my work, her influence is the only block that, were it removed, the tower would not survive. Her book, Kingdom Animalia, arrived to me in late 2011, at a pivotal time, when I was trying to teach myself how expansive a poem could be, how exuberant it could be, how it could sing with several revelations.
Without hyperbole, I don’t know if l am the same poet or a poet at all without that book and all of the work that followed. When I took the visiting artist gig at Stanford this year, one of my first questions was “Do you think Aracelis will read with me? I don’t care where or what shape it takes” And when the answer was an excited “yes” on her end, I was very moved. Not everyone gets to read with their favorite living writer. Many of us miss each other by the fortune or misfortune of timing. I could have been born in any point in time across any thousands of years, and I happened to be born in a time where Aracelis is making work and that work found me. I have done a lot of things on a lot of stages over the past three years but I will remember the magic of this evening for a long time. I especially loved that we didn’t prioritize the reading of our own poems, and prioritized the poems of people we love: Kamau Brathwaite, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Suheir Hammad, Ross Gay. It was like building a room inside of a room & tending to it well. Will be floating on this for some time. Gratitude to all of the people who organized this and gratitude to @haein_shim for all of these wonderful photos, I am especially glad the photo of Aracelis pointing up and saying “your poems are always saying LOOK! up THERE!” was captured. In the moments I do not feel lucky to be working in language, I will remember and return to this.