The Fin of Mays

Oh Moon please hear my fondest wish
turn my earring into a microwave dish:
I'd aim it at the Pamir Knot
if I were made into a robot!
I'd even wear a pinstripe suit
made of tinfoil, avocados
cardboard boxes and dried fruit!



all the practice all the work all the refinement
days of misted memory of the grind of skin on stone
to wind up enlightened in a severely clear environment
the finest surgery and craft could never shrink our bones
raw life contains no taboos or requirements
but we all exist alone



arthritic deterioration
two words redolent with despair
they stowed away aboard me
in morning's katabatic air
considering dog walking carabineers
if I need to I don't care
Clip-on attachments suit my veneer



My poetry today consisted of walking with Lydia Grey
one kilometer two kilometers three kilometers four
this dog is inexhaustible — I love her every pore
she pooped in such a perfect place it was easy to pick up
walking around is quite a thrill for such a sweet lil' pup!



Nobody asked the right questions
so I have not more to say.
This is the end of an empire
it grows nearer every day
A cycle sociological dependent
on no thing
fiduciary systems, war and violence
bartering
unlike the many who've gone before
this one won't be ended just by war
but as we squabble the earth is aboil
as we ramp up extraction and burn up oil
so tell us Misters Presidents
Re: Your final monuments
would you prefer we take a shit
or completely demolish it?



It's something more than nothing I suppose
it doesn't prick the finger like a rose
but on balance I would say
you're better off with yea than nay:
A human craves communication
not just physical stimulation



head shoulders knees and toes what are those?
I've been obese since I drank and bloated like a toad
my muffin top is like an anchor as my bones inside erode
every day is agony and we all die alone



Ur's endless cool and cracking
like a boiling lollipop
her rotation slowing bit by bit
eventually to stop
we can't remember yesterday
let alone tomorrow
we muddle around, we work and play
and age brings pain and sorrow
but what's the point of trying then
if there's no just reward at the end?
truth is it's not about our lives
any more than a butterfly's
we're all just here like entropy
a simple physical fact, you see
hear my bellowing, stentorian speech:
Meaning is what you make it, peach.

Three Cats One Dog

Never lie or waste time when your back's against a wall
Ever dry on a line only to get dunked when you fall?
Ever pine for a poem you can't perfectly recall?
Don't take this as a sign that I'm lonesome, not at all!
You'd be better off with any dog than a cat who caterwauls



sometimes I wish I could be a woman for her
or a man for him over there
my envy of heterosexuality, however,
is also mixed up in there
it took a while for me to figure me out
to me demi's basically ace
waiting for someone I don't even know
while I'm floating around with no tether in space!



my stony face still as cold earth
a heaving chest betrays my mirth
no laughs can be stifled for this beast
my limbic system is reactive meat
and I'm too large to hide a giggle
each snirtle corresponds to a belly wiggle!



get your lawyer, Lydia Grey
we're going for a walk today
you're a perfect bitch, you never stray
your eyes they stole my heart away
you're a great cat, you snoofer whoofer
from your nose to your mighty pooper!
— my unoffical therapist
who knew I'd fall for you like this?
even when you eat my caps
your gorgeous eyes make me collapse
prostrate and in immediate danger from
your sloppy soup spoon licky tongue
and your webbed toes like a otter's
remind me you're not not my real daughter!
So get your lawyer, take your station
never leave home without representation.

Tacky Bits of Tat

lily unfolds her petals of agony
a boiling volcano erupts in my thigh
there is no god to me but this battery
all day and every night
now they're testing me for mercury
who knows! Radium or Trinitite!
arsenic, other heavy metals
yet I remain convinced I'm just a blight



— A Ribbon.
Was my life only a cheap ribbon
how have we lost a billion years?
when antarctica was archipelagic
and I felt my first big fears
you swore that you would cover me
and keep me away from harm
but my growth was always interrupted
by your raging wild maelstroms
eternal twins attached at the collossum
or from you I would jet
your raging fits of monstrous fury
do nothing to make me wet
I'm oceanic you're didactic
you serve me, now calm your cries
I am free and you're a tactic
there's no need for either to die
let it go — think sideways
it's useful in certain spheres
from your math and cryptographic days
you're calmer now that you're sincere
it's funny how we separate
as if this is a safer state
...at least we don't dissociate!



— 30-32
six makes it to thirty just five times
that's five maturations to see Ray Charles live
right about when the New Wave hit on KYY
X marks the spot where I should be already long dead.
but it's not about me and it never was
it's about the forgotten and brutalized ones
those who never bowed their proud heads to the sun
perhaps someone younger could use what I do
so I'm sticking it out in remembrance of you
you dead and you beautiful werewolves most true



regular maintenance of systemic flaws adored
shouted at us touted as if they are natural truths and laws
sometimes a name is all it takes
something which will resonate
and then we get a dynasty
where a Bush reduces from a tree
and all we're left is shrubbery
absent human decency



Oh glorious democracy
without it wherever would we be
still benighted by landlords
still beheaded by their swords?
a revolution's just a prayer steamroller
we can't turn back time, we're just older
yet none the wiser with all our craft
we're just scuttling our own life raft



Think outside the beast's old box —
angels are more filling than any ox!
heaven tastes lovely with cream cheese and lox!
let's take 'em on a cattle drive
destination? Supper time.



if I were to live at sea
I'd still need to walk free
so I'd need some tenta-clese
eight or so would suit my needs
perhaps then I'd greet my love
There I'd be far from the scum above
the deepest depths would be our place
to dance in the marine snow full of grace



All debate was ended when Fidel stepped down
none were his equal, nobody wears his crown
as with Erdős we are all separated
by degrees of relation from the profound creative
yet Shackleton's arduous near-deadly trek
resonates because it's relateable as heck
while Amundson's was the ultimate best
he got there so fast his team had some rest

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.

The Tubes

douglas firs grey naked from the roots halfway up
first growth second growth old growth cain't sup
gonna be Ashford redux right after St. Helens erupt
gonna keep constructing right up until —we're corrupt
so full of our own pollution we live to destruct



salt cedar invasion like a lavender plague
cheatgrass and starlings reveal us
siberian elms find a good home
by stripping all competition away
a tree of heaven is a demon infernal
its roots undead fingers that infest eternal
Cataclysm ought clean this old slate



I undressed her slowly with my eyes
untangled her deceit and lies
found what truly lurked inside
a cruel thing who's heart had died

Solidaridad con solitaria Hermana Muerte/Lonesome Sister Death

I am but the rudest beast one ever looked upon
big and loud, always talking, probably poops on lawns
a mirror is no friend of mine and I can no longer drink all the wine
yet I still find at least one thing about me I don't mind
it turns out rather handily that I'm a fan of poetry



the world would be a better place
if it were simply full of snakes
so maintain the ophiphagous
but if you ask me it's outrageous
I'd get tired of the same old meat:
That's how we lost our lizard feet!


spring at dusk
the birds are chirping
heaven's out



some mathematically unproveable skate betty tricks
slick pink hot pants the color of sick
— not every lollipop deserves a lick
learn everything about picking up sticks
to build a canoe for travelling down the cricks
the next solar storm's gonna be a trip



I adore a kind face
yet my own grim visage can't be erased
it leaves me with no grace
— a glacier would seem a warmer embrace
it makes me feel as if displaced
or a snake in too large a place
at least rattling echoes in empty space

Las Ningunos

incurable romantic
mathematician antitheist
antediluvian moral certainty
with a punk rock gothic twist
rude and disrespectful, crass
thinks creosote smells of cat piss
terrified by flappy m-words
but not a bullet, blade or fist
never amounted to much
might as well end with this



climbed tall fir trees in each cyclonic breeze
broke my front teeth twice, skinned my knees
dug holes in the forest and found centipedes
picked my nose in deep thought
for the future and what time would rot
only felt free under the canopy:
Home was rarely safe for me



fix it with an explosion
give it a thousand megatons
we gotta stop the rising oceans
so yeet the ice shelves into the sun
get on it, Elon Bezos — 
put your strap-ons up for rent
you act like there's a miracle waitin'
so say you gave em up for Lent



some of these agonies seem intentional
as if a masochistic subconscious manifests
they come in waves with intervals
and they don't authorize much rest
caught in endless flash floods of pain internal
all treacherous rapids of dips and crests



what has been erased from the Atacama?
casually swept aside
that giant scar outside of Calama
a trench so gross it makes you cry
no stark reminders of the pre-invasion
all artifacts looted in ages gone by
the last way of knowing who came before us?
their corpses, mummified