on 10 March 1997
Nowhere have I read poetry that so completely encompasses the Native American view of the connectedness of all things. Harjo's writings, coupled with Steven Strom's photography of
"Indian country" make this a book that I read over and over, each time drawing something new. It is one of the only books I've ever read that convinces me that language is "alive", as alive as we are, as alive as the shoulder bone of a mountian, as alive as a comet which streaks its way across the sky. It is my favorite book. Period.