no roman candles

it was a polite surprise.
the first day of july.
the breeze was cool,
the forest in a haze.
my flesh could not
keep warm my bones.
three days before
independence day,
i will celebrate my
freedom from all
self-righteous
bastards. my apple
is small with a
thousand seeds. i
will remove the
intruders from my
flowers. i will water
my herbs and watch
them grow. this is
the harvest of where
i’ve been. abundance
is all make believe.
in the lap of luxury
there are no blessings.
i long to live with
those poor in spirit.
angels are empowered
in the house of a
rising sun. i embrace
this contradiction in
my spiritual connection.
the ambiance of my
brain has erased all
background noise.
soon the sun will bless
the trees and i will be
naked again.

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