Mojave Desert crushed cars stacked six, seven, ten tall. From the junkyard juts a billboard:

When I see the little holes where the earrings used to be I wonder what they embraced and then renounced to get to now.

Mowing with the sickle I stop abruptly and remember crawling out the window to smoke on the roof

Therein are the spoils of sorrow, the fruit of hardship, where wind snaps and prevails. Death whispers a hollow secret and I still a shiver

I wept at the sight of my guru’s picture, Praise God, He is always with me, a Holy thing,

You can get better, or you can get worse, or you can stay the same. But you can’t change. Nope!

As far as the eye can see— Limitless blue nowhere to be found.

Want nothing from people and receive their myriad blessings Expect from them and find an empty well Eat less than a ghost

I have this sensation when remembering the poignant noteworthy moments, Lovers, the Dead, crimes—

I feel newly acquainted with this skin, everything is novel, intensity is wherever my eyes land,

There is a stream of what could have been which flows on with the same rate and newness of what is.

Which came first, the egg or the h… An old friend visits on the anniversary of his death— He finds a voice

The only thing you can prove is how crazy you are. It’s the best defense. Where was I going with this? I don’t know.

Every time I leave my parents’ ho… I am filled with a sweet sorrow. It has taken me half a lifetime to… and now I love them so dearly, so… They nor I are getting younger

One of God’s tricks is, similar to Michael Jordan, It sinks a three-pointer with 1.2 seconds left on the clock,