Guitar Hero

Henry Hernandez, con guitar,
strummed the strings in his native country
but the revolution had not gone well.

The dry mountains and dead valleys
had spit their Indians up north
where according to Octavio Paz

Henry could divest himself
of that dusty smell he had accumulated
piling stone upon stone,

and all for what?
The Spaniards made off with all the gold
and maidenheads,

young warriors and wimps like hisself
killed off by Cortez and his criminals.
Grandson Henry pronounces his name Hernandass.


It's a poem because I say it is...
great post at Jim Murdoch's blog
scroll down when you get there.