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
I wrote this when much younger and so I hope that it is not too dated, for those in the know. It was in response to some tragic news story of the time. This poem was previously published in my book"A Deep, Blue Dreaming (Magick Boy's Lost Episodes)", by Shivastan Publishing.