I first found Sundance bleeding in the desert like a dog.

Dirt stuck to him in broken window panes,
he bent his neck toward me in parts.

Spoke through eyes red like Arizona rock.

******* was so *****,
looked like the desert spat him up.

Turns out it was the next town over.



They’d never done a proper hanging, before.


What happens when you’ve never done a
proper hanging before is loose hands.

Loose hands have a tendency
toward knives.

Sheriff sort of looked like a cross,
on his back,
that big knife stickin’ straight up like
a piece of glass.

Almost looked like Christ,
all curled up,
shining bright,
golden in all that dust.

Sundance drowned the devil in the Rio Grande.

Sundance had hands that were ****** quick.

I once saw him on a slow day.
Even then, they didn’t get to see the lightning,
people on the wrong end.

All they got was that black-hole barrel.
Must have looked like a third eye, on the other side. 

Must have looked like a sunset.  
Sundance’s tequila-blues,
a little shimmer, orange, red.  


Six sunsets in three seconds
he was that quick.


In Bolivia we met two hundred Federalies 
and I first saw him shake. 



He said everything’s upside-down on the other
side of the equator and sunsets happen
the wrong ****** direction here.

Said we got lazy and let the Texas
spin us over the wrong way.

I bet he was quick enough to see the lightning
before the black.

Sundance told me when the world ends,
it’ll start in Texas.

Said there’s a few canyons there that’ll swallow
the whole ****** planet if we’re not too careful.

Said we’ll be wakin’ up next to ****** snakes,
before anyone notices.