Bring me my Strat
although it resists
the splayed figures
of my fingers.
And we sing Ho Ho Ho
Chi Minh
at the eradication party,
our future still starlight scope.
Wearing tin rosettes
we spout empathy
like the stridulation
of beetles.
Freedom. Our freedom
in the green fog
of night vision explosions,
sand licking corpses.
Kerry Priest
.