He Had A Thousand-year-old Stare.

Her Mind Was Present Because She Was Always Gone. Her Hands Were Filled Because They Grasped The Meaning Of Empty. Life Was Simple. Her Husband Returned And She Served Him With Indifferent Patience This Time. When He Asked What Had Happened To Her Heat For Him, She Gestured To The West. The Sun Was Setting. The Sky Was A Body Of Fire.

To Sew Is To Pray. Men Don't Understand This. They See The Whole But They Don't See The Stitches. They Don't See The Speech Of The Creator In The Work Of The Needle.

Hunger Steals The Memory

Every So Often Something Shatters Like Ice And We Are In The River Of Our Existence. We Are Aware.

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.