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.