Americana

And Tamerlane ran,
stole the blue from the skies,
and sang his rhythmic songs

Oh, Waste-Land!
Oh, Cantos!
Such secrets wrapped in words,
dropped, in from pen
on the New World’s anchored curves

To spell Ambition and catch
society, for seconds
on the arrows that we’ve fletched.

To shoot straight and true
through the night, at the moon
to take by storm the conqueror worm.

Oh! Master’s Anthology!
Oh, titles thousands writ!
from the children of the paper
to the masters of the pen
born of a mixing nation
come to share their works