Fourth of July BY JOHN BREHM

 Fourth of July

BY JOHN BREHM

Freedom is a rocket,

isn’t it, bursting

orgasmically over

parkloads of hot

dog devouring

human beings

or into the cities

of our enemies

without whom we

would surely

kill ourselves

though they are

ourselves and

America I see now

is the soldier

who said I saw

something

burning on my

chest and tried

to brush it off with

my right hand

but my arm

wasn’t there—

America is no

other than this

moment, the

burning ribcage,

the hand gone

that might have

put it out, the skies

afire with our history.

Infighting BY RODDY LUMSDEN

 Infighting

BY RODDY LUMSDEN

Take this: for nothing here’s chiming, vibrating

and all this vainglory and self-deprecating

just goads at the tender parts, gets irritating.

You’ll make no advance advocating monopoly

on any vocabulary; even cacophony

needs the needle to make its point properly.

It’s true that you find yourself...