In the myths and legends of the Indian tribes of California, tales are told of Old Man Coyote and how he carved people out of sticks of buckeye. The st/cks became people after the fleas bit at them all night.

and he said

they will all speak different languages those to the South one

and to the North another and the fleas will bite them into life

and the West will be called West and the East East

and the younger Dove sang Shunnera shunnera hu he kaa...

but the sun did not shine on the land...

Old Man Coyote

continues the tale

of the Indians of the West by muddy Missouri River foaming steam

River of mystery

medicine water

and the furrowed plains and hills

we will make our people

out of wood

we will carve them

in the image of the land

and let the white man wonder

about the decay of our traditions and our children

will walk proud

in the land

living by the water

living water

muddy clear

until we come to the town

of large canoes

and meet the wooden canoe people and then the older Dove

also flung the rock

into the smoke hole

and the Sun came out to stay

Escanxaques

who stretch out one hand toward the Sun placing it on the chest

saying their name

for the world to hear this Peace

we have never known this Peace

which bears the name of the land of the dead and across the land

to where rocks shaped the stories

and where the canoes moved up the River

to the burial ground—a place of hills

overlooking the River to look down

at the horizon

from all sides

River of the arrow

running white water

white water and white spring

great spirit spring

water on the hill

Nika-shu-Dse

to purify us

white wash our traditions Bay-Chay-ne-a ta

give us whiskey for our troubles to have us fight

one another

so our languages don't mean what our myths

had promised us

and I will translate your bible into English

to preserve your heritage and we will lock it up

among our treasures

(Nika-shu-Dse)...

Wakonda...

you also are the spirit of the Sun and the stick figures

do look very similar

they tell the children

who created the world

that they can confide in their dreams they can trust their innocence...

the house and flowers talk to each other without shame

and the path from the house

is such a giant tongue and flowers grow from within flowers

and automobiles

ride in the sky

people compress people at the outskirts

of the town

and the smoke holes

are not seen anymore

only the arms and hands extending to share the circle

they come into the cities and pitch their tents

with babies on blankets waiting again for the spirit...

those who settled to the South

spoke the language of the South those who settled to the North

spoke another

and the fleas bit at the sticks to put life

into the people

no matter how far you fly the night will catch up with you

Raffael DeGruttola April 1980