. . . witness the birth of eve — she is rising she was sleeping she is
fading in a naked field sweating the precious blood of nodding
blooms . . . in the eye of the arena she bends in half in service — the
anarchy that exudes from the pores of her guitar are the cries of the
people wailing in the rushes . . . a riot of ray/ dios . . .

-Patti Smith