Final Angels

they charged off proudly way back when
mistakes they made raw and well
like stupid little clucking hens
but none will have the gall to say
"doesn't matter we gave 'em hell"
look what they lost along the way
instead of guns they needed pens
but no matter, ring the bells
every dawn every day



stores the razor blades by the bed
just in case they get in their head
excise the corruption quick lest it spread
love and lies was not enough
it was meant to be gentle but it got way rough
and true or not it ended their love



well rounded beveled rim to lips
a stand of sugar stands green and tan
oh no more working on this land
there's more to recompense than this
an evening's taste of our own remit
is an insult to a free human



play a game or three with me
the more iterations the happier I'll be
eventually we shall see
precisely what be your crypto key
your emergent methodologies
deal with absolute certainties
discover more and more rules, please!
this anaconda likes a squeeze



babbling always I fill the air
especially when there're people there
to drive em batty is my goal
what I can do well they won't know
until far too late — I'm long gone
happily ensconced within my home



women are made of water she said
and men have heads of stone
nonbinary? we are made of air
muffled cries and tears
benthic microplastics quite fantastic
make tungsten melt between my ears
if we don't learn to live posthaste
it's the end of all of us, my dears



nobody's here yet nothing left
fine neighbors these old piñon trees
goatheads dust and nice sunsets
the chile's green and breathin's free
the air is thin, the river's wet
no east out here — the Southwest is best



if every dawn I returned to dust
then I would rise up with the heat
freed from my own chains by time and rust
no more fears of cracked or bleeding feet
like a turkey vulture with no big fuss
I'd return at dusk for a good night's sleep



Tom Sawyer started a punk band
Dr Robinson bombs family planning clinics
Mr Sprague has become an atheist cynic
Huck Finn joined the local Klan
Becky called the cops on him,
he won't be causin' problems again
gunned him down there and then
while Widow Douglas sands her deck



I was born in the West, raised in the West,
and I never was a simp or a stan
I'm an irritating pest, slightly arrogant at best,
and I still do math because I can
But I've always been a poet, though I rarely showed it,
and get it right I'm not a man: I'm trans.