Independence Day
By Truth Thomas
There are fists making tom toms of eardrums,
boots kicking downbeats in skulls,
in every state of tinted circles.
We the trapped traps bear marks
of all their sticks and mallets,
G.K. Blues
By Tim Lynch
The leaves jumped up as I walked by.
The leaves fell wrong when I walked by.
The world’s thumbed all it wants of you, but I –