Jeanne Emrich


                                    Gods, Ghosts and Smiling Stone

                                                    the mists
                                                    this morning linger
                                                    as if the gods
                                                    who dreamed us
                                                    have yet to awaken

                                                    human-headed birds,
                                                    bird-headed humans–
                                                    how far I have traveled
                                                    to find my dreams
                                                    carved in stone

                                                    I hear the blood cries
                                                    of thunderbirds,
                                                    breathe the dust
                                                    of Anasazi bones

                                                    we slather on Coppertone
                                                    twice a day
                                                    this is how we coax the gods
                                                    to lie amongst us

                                                    have you seen
                                                    mankind's first steps
                                                    in the fossilized mud?
                                                    that was the day the gods
                                                    became invisible

                                                    the long wash
                                                    of summer rain
                                                    my archeology–
                                                    I am smiling stone