Today I was driving back from the prison, through the barren wasteland of Highway 46 and off to my left it was this double handful of crows rising in a great circle over the desert scrub. Maybe fifty black rags climbing into the white sky. To the right there was two great black crows perched upon the top rung of a telephone pole, shoulder to shoulder, one leaning against the other, as if tenderly.
And for a disconcertingly long moment I could look down upon the desert from where those crows flew and upon my blackened back felt the searing heat of the sun and I felt I knew who was with me, above and below and could hear their thoughts in the hard small vault of my skull. I was bone hungry and the baked dirt below me held the hard beating heart of something that drove me near mad.
It was a too fleeting to register that completely. It was a taste of steel in my throat that was gone before I could name it.
but it thrilled me.
Do not ask to be spared.
take what you’ve got coming and ask for more.