ABSTRACT
But, where were the hongos of vital skin, episodes of enrapture with the living word as prayers passed, round the candlestar hut.
You missed the children's sweetgrass breath that prepares the way for hot aguardiente tobacco and food, humble gifts for the ritual where old man armadillo watched the Mazatecan sky, waiting for his ever-young brother Coyote Sun to come back upCoyote Sun who tricks the night into chasing him.
