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He said, `How much did you give him, for ____ sake?'
`I gave him a tin cup full,' I said. He said,
`Why that was enough to kill an elephant.'
`Well,' said I, `it hain't killed Colorow.'
... Everybody's Indian,
Even the Indians',
Old many-souls!
How many times
Defeated (and the soul --
That temporary product
Of an obstructed spirit --
Discharged like a breath, and the mind
Gone oddly quiet, as in
The aftermath of a burst of rage),
Only to turn up elsewhere
In full force
To the end, with the old
Abrupt talent
For getting into action!
To die of old age
In your own lodge,
And on the White River
(Oh, far downstream, in Utah) --
Of the many souls
This last one, so light,