“I made this poem walking around the zoo in Omaha, Nebraska, with my mother and my daughter. It was incredibly hot and the zoo was very crowded—everyone around us seemed irritated with one another, but we were getting along just fine. The poem is a little chunk of music I was able to hold in my head until I was able to write it down, which I did, later, on the back of a King Soopers receipt that was in the car.”
—Graham Foust