Holidaze

Ah, the Fourth of July. Rather than creating a rant, I'll just offer this poem. I'll get back to the goofy stuff after a while. But now, the real world intrudes.

Reminders in Early July

Who wants to remember
the stench of the dead,
smoking skeletons of bushes
festooned with body pieces.
Dali meets Bosch.
This bod’s for you.

Who can forget
our most uncivil war,
atoms and flash burns blinding a generation.
A minuteman, cocked hat askew,
plays big cop on the corner of the world.
The freedom to revel in
politically correct enmity.

Desert sand to glass and
a million spent rounds of depleted uranium.
This rad’s for you.
The blood spoils and the children
are eaten by god who praises their hatred.

We celebrate a history of war,
mimicry of small arms and cannon,
young eyes alight with power,
smoke and flame in the streets.
Dangerous delight.
Living on Old Glory.