I listen to the gunfire we cannot hear, and begin this journey with the light of knowing the root of my own furious love.

In Isleta the rainbow was a crack in the universe. We saw the barest of all life that is possible. Bright horses rolled over and over the dusking sky.

If we cry more tears we will ruin the land with salt; instead let's praise that which would distract us with despair. Make a song for death, a song for yellow teeth and bad breath

Remember that you are this universe and that this universe is you.

I was born with eyes that can never close.

Because Music is a language that lives in the spiritual realms, we can hear it, we can notate it and create it, but we cannot hold it in our hands

My generation is now the door to memory. That is why I am remembering.