But We Danced, Under Wigs And Between

The Streetlight Outside My House Shines On Tonight And I'm Watching It Like It Could Give Me A Vision. James Ain't Talked Ever And He Looks At That Streetlight Like It Was A Word And Maybe Like It Was A Verb. James Wanted To Streetlight Me And Make Me Bright And Beautiful So All The Moths And Bats Would Circle Me Like I Was The Center Of The World An Held Secrets.

Read. Read 1000 Pages For Every 1 Page That You Write.

My Career Means, If You're A Non-indian Writing About Indians, At Least There's One Indian In Your Rearview Mirror.

You Can't Sustain [anger]. You Become Bitter. Nothing's Going To Change. Anger Leads To Resentment, Then To Spiking Your Orange Juice, Then To Martyrdom.

Like Officer Dave.he's Never Said Much About His Life, But I Can Tell He's Scarred. And He Knows I'm Scarred Too. The Wounded Always Recognize The Wounded. We Can Smell Each Other.