Liberty is not a hymn or an anthem,
a slogan
blocked in the thorax of intersections
of our convictions,
a march to victory
on the squares of the big cities,
~cities like apples with apple worms
wiggling and gobbling inside,
rutting the flesh of their hosts
to metamorphose to their petty acrid wings,~
a hero that could defeat an army,
an army of braves
leaping over the trenches of
fearsome bayonets and bullets.
Liberty is the tiny throats
of little finches
when they all
sing together.
