John D’Agata, The Making of the American Essay, prologue (ancient Amerindian recitation):
Creation
Water went, they say.
Land was not, they say. Water only then.
Mountains were not, they say.
Stones were not, they say.
Fish were not, they say.
Deer were not, they say.
Grizzlies were not, they say.
Panthers were not, they say.
Wolves were not, they say.
People were washed away, they say.
Grizzlies were washed away, they say.
Panthers were washed away, they say.
Deer were washed away, they say.
Coyotes were not then, they say.
Ravens were not, they say.
Herons were not, they say.
Woodpeckers were not, they say.
Then wrens were not, they say.
Then hummingbirds were not, they say.
Then otters were not, they say.
Then jackrabbits, greysquirrels were not, they say.
Then long-eared mice were not, they say.
Then wind was not, they say.
Then snow was not, they say.
Then rain was not, they say.
Then it didn’t thunder, they say.
Then trees were not when it didn’t thunder, they say.
It didn’t lighten, they say.
Then clouds were not, they say.
Fog was not, they say.
It didn’t appear, they say.
Stars were not, they say.
It was very dark.