In every moment
\nwhere time circles
\nand nothing is your country
\nbut Fourth of July.
\nWhere heat is custard yellow
\nand the date of forever
\nis your 16th year,
\nwhen you declare
\na storm brewing
\nwith lightning before it cracks.
\nAnd this summer
\nlike it can never be again,
\nwas never before,
\nand crying became jazz
\ninside yourself.<\/p>\n
Perpetual,
\nevery note a rapture
\nof independence,
\nthe zenith of a sigh,
\na red shift wailing
\nsharps and flats.
\nYour horn sweet with passion,
\nlove and dying,
\nin monsoons of sound,
\ndrunk, that was a perfect day.<\/p>\n
Eyes full of light,
\nlids closing,
\nlike exhausted notes,
\nafter image
\nof freedom in our hearts
\non the Fourth of July.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In every moment where time circles and nothing is your country but Fourth of July. Where heat is custard yellow and the date of forever…<\/p>\n