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The Shuddering Breath I Became

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   The Shuddering Breath I Became The cryo unit hisses open, and I remember my name: JB, pilot of the *Subi*. The med-techs call it “revitalisation.” My body hums with a new, raw power. Muscles knit with synthetic fibres, bones laced with carbon-filament. I feel incredible. Invincible. But in the polished chrome of the med-bay wall, my reflection is a stranger. The eyes are mine, but they glow with a faint, amber diagnostic light. The scar from the asteroid scrape is gone, replaced by skin too perfect, too seamless. They say they rebuilt me better. Stronger. To survive the long dark. But when I clench my fist, I hear a servo-whine they insist isn’t there. When I calculate a jump vector, the numbers resolve instantly in my mind, not on a screen. Is this their design? A monster of efficiency, crafted for a purpose I didn’t choose? Or is the monster the part of me that wanted this? The part that, bleeding out in my crippled cockpit, whispered *yes* to any salvation? Did I consent...
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Hiroshima Decent

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Each decent is comparable
Even if you live a 100 or a 1000 years

The unavoidable fall into worldly affairs
Entangled in its complications
Entangled in its quarrels

There are a number of vantage points
Find them if you can


Hiroshima Lion Dog

The beginning of all things to end
Once a symbol of strength
With the power to repel evil
With real malice and magical power to act

But then the questions
Who guards our guardians
As we guard ourself from ourselves

Until we finally rest in error
And the social contract is disemboweled

As the logistics fall apart
From one misunderstanding to the next









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