let me tell you about the heartache and the loss of god wandering wandering in hopeless night indian's scattered on dawn's highway bleeding ghosts crowd the young childs fragile eggshell mind.
me and my mother and father and grandmother and grandfather were driving through the desert at dawn and a truckload of indian workers had either hit another car or just -- i don't know what happened.  indians were scattered all over the highway bleeding to death.
but it was the first time i tasted fear. i musta been about four, like a child is just like a flower, his head is floating in the breeze.
the reaction i get now looking back is the soul of the ghosts of those dead indians -- maybe one or two of them were just running around freaking out and just leaped into my soul -- and they're still there.
have you ever seen god? -- a mandala. a symmetrical angel. felt? yes. fucking the sun. heard? the music. voices. touched? an animal. your hand tasted? rare meat, corn, water and wine
the music was new black polished chrome and came over the summer like liquid night.