name of Zuni Pueblo means the Middle Anthill of the World. Native American myths are about living as and where you are, staying or wandering, and the rhythms that pulse through all creation binding the place where you live to the story of the world and the story of time. They are about continuities between all animate beings, between the living and the dead and future generations, between the mysterious and the mundane – and between the universal and the immediate, furnishing legend with a local habitation and a name. Continuities like these, all of them, are measured in the concluding words of the poem chanted on the eighth night of the Zuni ceremony of the Coming of the Gods: when the man in whom the spirits of the earth and the dead are incarnated, after intense preparation, calls for the lifegiving aid (‘the breath’) of the ancestors (‘the fathers’) to renew the community (‘add your breath’) in the here and now. ‘Let no one despise the breath of the fathers,’ he declares. ‘But into your bodies, / Draw their breath.’ ‘That yonder to where the road of our sun father comes out,’ he continues,