This tale tells us that the only war worth fighting is for the protection of wayward ladies and no-good horses! Never officially ordained as a vigilante, his vengeance on the Amargosa was accepted as having been handed down by sage angels.
Stylized and sometimes leaving narrative form to lean upon the structure of the music bed (and the wind), this story carves an indelible groove on the sandstone and pokes a hole in the water table, surprising us with the treasures of the natural order and the beauty of truth. The dirty blue peacock is dehydrated. The coyotes move very slowly. The moon covers its mouth and laughs. Borax. Mule droppings and railroad dust. Antifreeze. Alcohol. Pharmaceuticals. It's all here.