Shundo David Haye

Inside a cave in a narrow canyon near Tassajara 
The vault of rock is painted with hands, 
A multitude of hands in the twilight, a cloud of men's palms,
 no more, 
No other picture. There's no one to say 
Whether the brown shy quiet people who are dead intended 
Religion or magic, or made their tracings 
In the idleness of art; but over the division of years these careful 
Signs-manual :ore now like a sealed message 
Saying: "Look: we also were human; we had hands, not paws. 
 All Hail 
You people with the clever hands, our supplanters 
In the beautiful country; enjoy her a season, her beauty, 
 and come down 
And be supplanted; for you also are human.