American Odyssey
We vanished into America,
We fell into the idea of it.
It was no longer water,
Or the streams of rivers
Falling from the mountains
And the hills. It was no longer
Industry, or agriculture spread
Beyond the cities where we lived—
It could only be its own creation,
And our interpretation
Of its meaning; it was an image
Of the country, printed on a screen,
And the sound of it, announcing
Our intention to decry the past—