Implosion

Comprehensive Airman Fitness Day.

Wearing fatiguing fatigues of air and war
Waiting in a cotton candy Prius holding cell—
Part transportation, part portable fortress—
Parking lot breaths, preparatory reclusion into
Sound and spirit and rhythmic rhyme and Beat.

Hearing more truth in the cosmic vibrations of Ginsberg’s queer shoulder than in Air Force Instructions thirty six dash twenty nine oh something or other
Howling coyote solemnities to bygone moonstruck reject machinations of Whoever’s Who
Dreaming of virgin birthing blackhole consciousness between prepositional polarities
Checking repeatedly for objects in mirrors that may be closer than they appear, but only finding reified eyes slipping further away, but
Staring unmoved through a glass killing field for insects and questions humming, buzzing, capturing, splattering into graveyard residue sketchings
Clenching tight jugular steering wheel reins of a life parked for in-flight training
Hoping to one day offer this nation something more than a right hand raised shaking in doubt
Asking not, telling not, confessing lost conformities to copied-copies of enlightened gaze and warriors brave
Balancing ‘America stop pushing I know what I’m doing’s on one palm and ‘bearing true faith and allegiance to the same’ on the other, so help me God.
Running away from insurrection resurrections of electrical impulses along coastline Calvaries, Gethsemane gay bars, Golgotha steeples
Flying cross country then driving cross country to figure out if I had a name or you had a name or he had a name to transfigure guilt and shame
Shutting out with valves of feldspar granite mausoleum walls whatever felt like family
Studying Augustine, Nietzsche, Soren, Jeffers, Emily, Rostam, Huseyn and hallucinating poets of desert caves

Protecting Alone.
Projecting Alone.
I am the Cosmos in expectant implosion.

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