What Happens When You Let

The World Tips Away When We Look Into Our Children's Faces.

It Kills Your Writing If You Try To Manipulate It With Crude Politics.

At Times The Whole Sky Was Ringed In Shooting Points And Puckers Of Light Gathering And Falling, Pulsing, Fading, Rhythmical As Breathing. All Of A Piece. As If The Sky Were A Pattern Of Nerves And Our Thought And Memories Traveled Across It. As If The Sky Were One Gigantic Memory For Us All.

By The Time I Was Done With The Car It Looked Worse Than Any Typical Indian Car That Has Been Driven All Its Life On Reservation Roads, Which They Always Say Are Like Government Promises - Full Of Holes.

There Is A Legacy Of Violence Against Native Women That Has Gotten Worse And Worse Over Time.