In Nebraska, they are murdering transexuals
those with necks red as blood and lipstick
This recording is the last of the words which are me
-Play on the air for all to hear
or smash them between these two bricks
these two red bricks of earth and stone
In Nebraska, they are murdering transexuals
which you may think is funny
when their lipstick gets smeared ridiculously
across the macadam
until you see their blood the same as yours
until they come for you
those "good old boys" with fists like bricks
and necks engorged with hate and spit
warm beer, **** and vinegar
sun beating down on their angry, little brains
This is the final transcript
of all that I am
embellished with sequins and such
scrawled in *****
These words are my lover's breaths
floating in darkness above cold ears
lost in cartoon-balloon blurbs
a drama of gasps
a flurry of snow and chipped nails
upon the pavement
across the prairie
in Nebraska
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 5:26 AM UTC
Disjointed and ajar
I left the windows to my reality
too far open for far too long
and the judgements got in
the doubts collected
the inflicted pain pooled
puddling at my feet
and somewhere along the way
you flew the coop
leaving me stuck sitting there
with cement shoes on
that I never could get off
again
Feb., 2017
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
The last half of one's life
becomes a lot of waiting.
The trees at least do not seem to mind.
They're used to it.
Endless lists are printed out onto their flesh
like concentric rings of mindless chatter
while they are waiting;
waiting to become pulp,
then dust,
then nothing at all
beneath an animal's hooves.
The universes are grainy
with particles of energy
in strange states of quantum flux.
The remainder of one's time
is a looped back wormhole
through an apple in a jackass's mouth
that ends
where it began
in an illusion of time
jotted down in an old man's
spiral bound
and faded note
book.
12/18/16
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 2:32 AM UTC
the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne
the length of legs, the depth of eyes
more medical trips and taxicab drives
blood tests, x-rays, candy bars from vending machines
visitors in lab coats
questions
touches
from cold metal, cold skin
antiseptic aromas
waiting in cold rooms, in backless hospital gowns
a flash of skin from the hot patient
next to me, an inviting smile
a ***** of crotches
a wheelchair comes
to take me
away
Dec., 2002
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC
Where has my love gone
Into ***** storage boxes
perpendicular to the idiot box
hidden behind a soap box
a litter box for the nursing puppies of depravity
a window box of opportunity inviting madness in
twisting little cardboard limbs into origami weapons
screaming paper faces of pain
of loneliness inconsolable loneliness
tormented newsprint balloons of pain
falling effetely from pain spilling mouths
of kerosene and matches in the back room
Where has my love gone where has my love gone
Into ashes on the hillside of despair
or into some small wooden box of memory
where even my eyes cannot see
boxed in like a gift
with a bow
Oct., 1997
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 10:34 AM UTC
Mama Kamuma dances the old dance steps
She dances the dance of the ancestor gods
and beneath her the Earth's drum beat
a rumble of mountains and rocks
the force of rivers, mudslides, and avalanches
Kamuma dances the Earth Mother dance
Kamuma dances the Earth alive
1997
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 6:56 AM UTC
we will pay for everything
in the future
we will pray for nothing
I had dreamt a silver, shining dream
once, but now that dream
is a mocking commercial
broadcast from dingy screens
beneath ozone depleting
lies
we will pay
for living our lies
we will pay increasingly growing prices
for increasingly decreasing substance
I had dreamt a green leaf, blue sky
lie once, but now
that dream
is just chemicals in the water
now trees are just a dream
now deer, now birds
now fish, and now
now there are no more words
no sounds of life, no thoughts
no lips to tremble
and nothing new for "God's" blundering
sons, nor for Her daughters
now there are no forests, now no cities
now there are no oceans, no airports
no drive-throughs, no "losers" to date
no lovers, , no families
no malls, bridges, or buildings
now there are no could-bes
no factories, or flowers
now there are no smiles, or tears
now there are no old folks, or youngsters
now there are no cars, no buses
no night clubs, parties, nor restaurants
classes, passes, nor tickets
no pillows, no blankets
no warm beds for sleep
now there is no now whatsoever
nor is there a future
because all that remains
is a past that has passed
and some once weres
that cannot be remembered
yes
we will pay for everything in the future
and then we will pray
for nothing
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 8:56 AM UTC
****** homophobes
circle around me like sharks
waiting to taste me
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 1:05 AM UTC
You walk in beauty
as I walk in beauty
gliding ever towards each other
gliding always apart
It is a dance
and it is a race towards land's end
a cliff dive into the ocean between us
with no diving bell
no breathing apparatus
in a no man's land
where no needs are met
and no vows exchanged
I am walking
and I am imagining that you are walking
like an unspoiled promise
that may never be
delivered
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 9:02 PM UTC
She didn't know why
but within the simple act
of a man taking off his belt
lay all the terrors in the universe
But one day
this woman
she refused to be afraid for even
one more minute
She refused to give sway
to fear anymore
She refused to be a doormat
for one more bad egg
in the locker room
She refused
to be
a fashion
accessory
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC