Poetry Report: Fourth of July is Weird
“Exploding Lightning
Dragon Penis Rainbow or something”
The Fourth of July is my favorite holiday because the older I get, the weirder it seems.
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4th of July, 2014 7:30AM
As Iraq and Syria and the Ukraine explode
we remember our independence.
(With explosives and alcohol!)
Birds still chirp and sing.
(But I thought we blew those bastards
from the trees last night?)
Planes pass overhead through
a cloudless air
that breaths with insects ...
(Smoke should kill bugs.)
...that stirs a breeze
that just laps the thin layers of skin
(Mom! Where's my mortars!?!)
It's ten miles between
the ground and unbreathable space.
(Where's my mortars!?! You know, that one.
Exploding Lightning
Dragon Penis Rainbow or something.)
A small white butterfly,
a living confetti,
flutters a few inches
toward me
like a note from the heavens.
(Where's Happy Blossoming Lotus Satan Vomit
with report!?! )
Of all the powers God could have chosen
the quiet ones were always picked first.
(Here they are! Thank God.
Now let's blow some shit up!)
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