Holy Shit (Applied Reverb)
“The sinews of war are infinite money.”
What dubious songs bring pudgy fingers
to the joystick on an airbase in Nevada, an easy image
of self-love given with some alacrity, to deposit
an incendiary device some 7,000 miles his desert elsewhere?
What sonorous charms infect the head
of the latest waspy active shooter?
What cool, blue slime feeds on his circuits?
Sing, Goddesses, one of you, Jesus, of Paris’s dope no-scope
(Apollo Pallas), across the fucking map, on war-dumb Achilles,
Odysseus’ septuple kill and unreal Diomedes, of your
Diomedes Astynous (spear in the chest)
Diomedes Hypeiron (sword to the collar bone)
Diomedes Thoon (nipple?)
Diomedes Pandarus (spear in the nose)
Diomedes Aeneas (a rock)
Then, sing, too, why not, of Lee Dong-nyoung
who, with stony eyes, farms us all day, whose username
rhymes with epoch (or Enoch), whose Banelings crash upon
our Colossus, felling it before our Nexus and its Pylons;
a viridescent wave licking rock into a 20-minute topographical wonder.
Sing he who deems the piled, mephitic ruin a ghetto for “tryhard nubs,”
we who dare make a track in his garden of unthinkable currency.