WEBVTT

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For the giveaway.

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Someone spoke his name,
Mammedaty, in which

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his essence, was and is.

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It was a serious
matter that his name

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should be spoken there in the
circle among the many people.

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And he was thoughtful,
full of wonder,

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and aware of himself
and of his name.

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He walked slowly to the
summons looking into the eyes

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of the man who summoned him.

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For a moment, they held
each other in close regard.

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And all about them, there
was excitement and suspense.

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Then a boy came
suddenly into the circle

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leading a black horse.

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The boy ran and the
horse after him.

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He brought the horse up
short in front of Mammedaty,

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and the horse wheeled
and threw its head

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and cut its eyes
in the wild way.

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And it blew hard and
quivered in its hide

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so that light ran rippling upon
its shoulders and its flanks.

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Then it stood
still and was calm.

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Its mane and tail were fixed
in braids and feathers.

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The bright red chief's
blanket was draped

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in a roll over its withers.

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The boy placed the reins
in Mammedaty's hands.

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And all of this was for
Mammedaty, in his honor,

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as even now, it
is in the telling.

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And will be - as
long as there are

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those who imagine
him in his name.

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So that's the poem.

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If that's the word for it,
it is both poetry and prose.

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But that's the title piece.

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The first section
of the collection

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is made up of poems and formula
that reflect the Indian world,

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and the oral tradition
of the American Indian.