Here's a pathetically ironic one for the day, cerca 2000...

REDEMPTION IS IN THE AIR

The new Aeon has found us
so let us speak no more of purity and chaos.
By the wind's fury only
my hairy plumage sticks to my lipgloss.
And we cannot give leave
to the scent of coffee
that rises from the sewers
and suburbs.

Vibrantly dying leaves,
kindred spirits to the sun,
have already fallen
on the sacred pools of Binah.