even with a hardened Armour cynic
grown by all understandings so futile
men worldly you numb me hard still
make my heart full,burst sadly,blur my
eyes,humanity remnant drowned in tears.
i sit silent zombied tonight,feeling violated,
building rages awaiting that dawn patient
for thoughts new, an action unprecedented.
but for now,you have killed me dishonorably.

All I wanted was a cigarette.
We weren't allowed to smoke.
He knew where to go.

We swept sidewalks together.
Raked sand together.
Talked about life together.

His window was across from mine.
I think he saw me changing once.
Maybe more than once.

He was getting dishonorably discharged.
I didn't think he was a good man.
I didn't think he was a bad one, either.

It had been two weeks since I landed in Monterey.
I only wanted a cigarette.
He knew where to go.

I bought the Southern Comfort and bottom shelf gin.
He carried them with him to his room.
I didn't think anything of it.

We raked sand together.
We ate lunch together.
We watched movies together.

We sat on a makeshift bench by the ditch by the installation fence.
We drank and smoked and laughed.
I taught him Farsi and he taught me Russian.

Russian for "hello" and "goodbye."
Russian for "This is allowed."
Russian for "This is not allowed."

I think he saw me changing once.
He tried to kiss me on the cheek.
I told him no, my boyfriend wouldn't like that very much.

We smoked some more.
We drank some more.
We laughed some more.

It was 2130.
I had to be in my room by 2200.
He said not to worry, I'd be back in time.

I insisted and tried to leave.
I fell to the ground.
He didn't help me up.

I only wanted a cigarette.
He kissed me on the mouth.
I did not kiss him back.

I was immobile.
Paralyzed.
Drugged?

He kissed me again.
And again.
And again.

I did not kiss him back.
I had a boyfriend.
All I wanted was to smoke and drink and laugh.

He grabbed me by the ankles.
Pulled me over the ditch behind the army barracks by the installation fence.
I could hear soldiers coming back to their rooms.

I was paralyzed.
I always thought I would fight.
Fend him off with car keys stuffed between my fingers.

I looked up at the tree branches above me, my watch said 2147.
That was the last time I prayed to God.
There were leaves in my hair and dirt on my arms.

There was something less than a man between my legs.
It looked at me with hate in its eyes.
We swept sidewalks together.

God kicked back and swigged a PBR
     while I was ***** behind the army barracks,
     over the ditch by the installation fence.

He helped me up.
I couldn't stand on my own.
How sweet.

I vomited by a tree.
I was disgusted with myself and him and God.
I wanted to drown in Southern Comfort and bottom shelf gin.

He walked me to my barracks building.
How sweet.
I made it to my room by 2200.

All the girls watched me stumble down the hallway.
I was so violently alone.
Taps wailed outside the window.

I left my hat by the bench by the ditch by the installation fence.
He brought it to me the next morning.
How sweet.

"In Heaven
The Water
is Shiny Gold"

In approach of a clearing /
Vernal-Volcanic-Bagpipe-Intimidation-Collapse-Arise-/
empty hopscotches fade with rain, remembrances of my foiled return
lent to after-rather haze mingling line by line
with eyeglasses fogged up

I relinquished the panic of your absence one week ago today, but it wasn't easy, being caught in such swelling strings once desiring to wake in Gold

I was guided by my dream family which led me thus / glimpsing premonition Wyomings sprawl with pine & geyser
flat land fire
down river /
Spring Snow and tribulations sound with elemental reverberations of Spirit colliding with Stone
pirouetting upon a newfound expanse

My restless and uninitiated Tulpa stirs and screams
(I am owed this one) delving to ancient territories of attractive chaos
emerged unkind
but tender enough to fold into my next dressing, appropriately remote

II

By June I ascend further via Nepalese staircases carved from Mountain rock, Sun-showers resplendently endow this band of rattling Sherpas with grace
to hold, to wrap around their necks and deliver to my private Summit

(where many have died, where many have given their flesh to this
Golgotha Sagarmatha)

Sneah Yerng !
away you mortal entity death !

I consume you with Himalayan tea and the heavy sensation of my boots planting their weight to frozen earth - listening, attention to the foreground Chorus exhaling harmonies of Khmer which give further texture to the native brush

(We were once kindling set perfect across the ground - to blaze & become heavenly together - instead subjugated by time's feral will, you - now a Mother and a stranger to me, Myself - continuing & following this sense strangeness which is always present but flickering like cosmic frequency magnetically luring me into a breadbasket of fire & weeping intermittent, into a cycle, a snake - surrounding magic Islands of self-past and self-future
which whirl-about searching feverishly for a path - now that the one preceding has been lost or misguided, you're bound to this breathing child who's not ours - but yours)

This is how our story ends. Where we diverge and become Actual -
carrying separate but respectful momentum in each Epoch of life in all it's various & flowing Identities, just as I'd once predicted in an Altenburg Kitchen reading Rimbaud and sipping hot water quietly, disturbed - knowing, somehow, that we'd irrecoverably commit to being temporary conflagrations in the lives of the other. The end of A summation. Events that in many ways were born there, it is forcibly behind me now.. I was the result of these things. A sword carved from heat, and pressure.

What do I do with this?
So worn with necessity - living
Enjoying occasional rain, timely - capturing passing loves
refusing to stale and finish as Petrarchan - Madame George and Myself as two ambitions which acted both honorably & dishonorably at times. As human nature dictates, as I'll know, a branded truth from now on -
I am proud of you, I love you. I will cherish you, always.

We curate and amend – understand
each other's impossible profundities

(Shh! lights go out unexpectedly ! Your remainder hovers by the door for just a few secret and sacred seconds/ gone...)

These poems have been as much for you as they were for me - But I must exit this vacated place of only peering into the beyondness of things that have outgrown their form
open, step - deliver myself to:

Take me to Geneva in the winter
where our lungs will be crowded with icicles
as our capillaries assemble on edge
each and every one aching just to quiver
like my bottom lip that I simply can't control.

Oblivious to the weather
fueled by a shroud of eager anxiety
that engulfs and embraces my skin
like the quick and even breathes I'm taking
just to stay awake
in something that predicts like a vision.

Follow me close as I perceive this vividly
that the moment wedged between inhale
and exasperated exhale
is flooded with thoughts of you
that I would drown in it willingly
that all I can credit my thoughts to be
is to the speculation if I am lucid dreaming or not
of your lips on mine
of your fingers earnestly entwined in my shaggy hair
as you pull me closer
and I can smell your warmth
and feel your passion through this possibility
that our our hands are locked
like the door of my bedroom
every night
in my empty apartment
because being safe
has taken me 21 years to understand
and even then
the fear shamefully crawls its way into my spine
like the hunter into the carved belly of the bear
for warmth and survival
for protection of incessant guilt.

But it is in this ten seconds
I can finally sink into this fogless reality
of enjoyment and felicity
at long last
the solace refuge.

And in this accelerating sound of assurance
I will teach you the language I studied
in moments so short
that a staccato could fill two lungs tip top
and still be 100 yards behind this message
gawking at the starting line
and as the gun goes off
I am already there
lungs filled
wanting to do justice
with more than just an ***** in my chest
but with the treatment hidden inside skipping beats
and minds running and screaming so loudly
as I'm howling this adamant resonance from the top of the complex
to empty my mind until my throat is sore
until what follows are the neighbors voices escaping angrily open windows
bellowing at me to please turn it down
for the umpteenth time
but I want to remedy this disease
with the softness of your neck
I want to hold you close
with your head nestled in my shoulder
where scars beneath clothes usually sit dishonorably
but not now
because now they know a relentless forgiveness
and amity so authentic
that now I can exhale

Ms. Johnson soon left, and Dialect and Breastplate Bearer came to see.
Breastplate-Bearer asked, So who won the final round of Jeopardy.
Message shrugged her shoulders and said, I don’t know, but it wasn’t me.
Dialect interrupted, Dragon-Man, your Abyss-Sword will no longer respond to your command.
It is decreed in the Decipherment charter that no holder can have Helmetchief blood on his hand.
Dragon-Man groaned, and Message jumped up and cried out, I give him a Rulership reprieve.
She looked at Dragon-Man and weakly smiled, Dragon-Man’s body was filled with relief.
Dialect continued, It is best to keep the Abyss-Sword in the Damocles stone.
Therefore someone can still pilot it, and you Dragon-Man will have atoned.
Breastplate-Bearer spoke up and said, I can be the pilot, I have the experience.
I was a fighter pilot during the war, and had the highest clearance.
One day my missile system misfired, and hit a nearby town.
One of the apartment buildings was damaged, and collapsed to the ground.

They dishonorably discharged me at a court-martial, I had to leave the service.
Even though I told them what I did was in the heat of battle, not on purpose.
Someone approached me to join the Federation, it struck my curiosity.
That I could fight for a better cause,  one that would save eternity.
Dialect replied, You can be the pilot, just don’t take the Abyss-Sword out.
Whoever tries to remove the sword will go mad, and insanity will sprout.
They were all silent for a while, they did not know that Abyss Sword had so much tension.
Dragon-Man asked, Who would be able to take it out when the fight has to be won?
Dialect cocked his brow and frowned, Let’s not hope we get to that, because it would be tough.
You might be able to wield the Abyss-Sword in time, but we don’t know how much time is enough.

Dragon-Man asked, then what weapon would I use, to what system would I go.
In came in Lady of the Night with the Composti  repeating crossbow.
She grinned, You gave it to me, and this weapon always seemed better for you.
Because we need firepower as well as slashing, and a repeating weapon will do.
Messaged moved to the other side in relief, she had done her very best.
Dialect interrupted, I have Magaian tiger-hounds to protect you as you rest.
Dragon-man asked whimiscially, Do they bark, I don’t want them to keep me up at night.
They all laughed out of relief and happiness that Dragon-Man could keep it light.
Suddenly there came on the tv, The Police Commissioner Joseph Grant  has declared martial law.
Message stood up and said, Let’s move out and fight , this is what the Federation was created for.