ACT I

Manning, the accused leaker of thousands of pages of Pentagon documents to the organization Wikileaks, is naked in a cell, chained to a wall. Or not chained. It’s unclear. But she’s naked, or wearing only underpants, or naked, in a cell. She’s against a wall as if chained to it. Whether she is or not can never be established. After some time she seems to wake.

Manning

Identity of any kind
not kind for me, if speaking out
if speech is what
make we as ours here, as
our writ directive way
we act goal we seek
freedom’s speech:
Iraqis
when American in Wales
alone in crests
of Oklahoman hillocks
and center is a room
but no space in which
beyond scattered projects
one might feel man
woman
whole and yet approaching whole
and still human
and worth a forced
position—engendered mass-ineptitude
of hills that rise beyond
nub, of flat
afflatus exercising joy
and burst.
The regulations that destroy
by their there—
and never the pure alloy
never mind—care
enough about a thing
and it distends like Oklahoma grass
would without the thrash
of cutters running all day long
to keep all things in shape
and bullying of shape
or charge or depth
or closeness—no,
it was all inside me
internal or infernal
clothing I drew tight
and might
withdraw—

    —and without flaw disclosed
the open secret of the lost
and paid the cost—
what is worst
implies direction
us cognates
of scores
that lute my doom.

An apparition of Byron appears.

Byron

The dead will marshal freedom
as we can
look back and see we stand
together in one man
reading—a plan
rescinds one
for all—keep heart.

Manning

But dead dream life
without book
or talk
forgetting towards
mad breakneck
was already
wanted
and expected.
Entranced
advocate
why rise?
What dim disguise
British
dawn light
of grim republic
obfuscating me
and public
interests?

Byron

The dead stand fallen
without country
grave on
grave humanly.

Manning

We’ve always been arrayed
on racks made out
of dead men’s words—
skeleton
oppression
for carrion spits on fire
turned round by leaden birds
unable to desire
but grave from grave.

Byron

I come as advocate
to offer will
belief in change
of shape through deformation
truth fractioned
idiom burnished gold
around a leper’s neck
like a turbaned Turk in crux
Mad Jack’s boy before the benches
cruxing out mad joy for speech
for all Bonapartists landed
yet, at least in heart—treason
is an act born out in tone
of deed and not in tone of voice
or ton of data curbing choice.

Manning

Data changes
what is inscrutable
sight backwards
knife drawn forward
against cold flesh
chest
implanting breast
on breast atop
the muscles chop
by chop—my make
a model of my heart
and not your eyes...
Begone attendant
whim let concourse
grade and justice
flow unflagged
by limp entreaties—
no more Oklahoman frenzy
or the bite of that cool winter
under electric blankets
when the sun would not come—
caught in the bungalow of
self-restricted self pressed in
contrapuntal hypocrite
exposition normalcy—

Byron

I leave as bid
having surfaced
out of the unhid
ribald
coruscating freed.

Byron dematerializes. Manning appears to sleep.

Voice of Dream

No hedges fences
shadows as I walk
around the old plant
catching glimpses
shadow impaled on edge
light graining towards
the truth of immanent
separation from rôled
life. Hurried on curbed
in decency to show
only that much of myself
before the blank wrath
of what I might find.

Contouring drop I
down cross-wise
atop the concrete, lie
on the side of vice
debatably proffered
concrete wall not like
Oklahoma turf in spread
but still a home now
livid colors perfume row
on row of spectacle
experimenting on me
as I lie prostrate coiled
against the gravity of down
and holding fast
in dream to where the wall
will let me hold fast
to the wall.

Curtained contours
political silence
working depraved
outdoor landscapes
crushed like ground mice
amidst the florid poppy
field grain embankment
break you through to
death invisible grow.

Manning opens his eyes. A phantasm of Jefferson appears and speaks.

Jefferson

The glory you have opened
the glory of the world
my friend, my potent friend,
awake! Your trials at an end,
for we the guerdon of democracy
have seen your fate, and we have sneered!
We have invoked our sacred right
and we will see your castigation quick abjured
if all goes as I’d like...
But first, again, explain yourself substantially,
with reason.

Manning

Invisibility real to me
new not unfamiliar way—
stays emblematically
days wear nothing turns,
no words come lift me up—
won’t did it for my country
though I did—transparently
lock pick apart that line—
distance them from all,
incensed largesse breeds
blood, yearns powers
basest level, betrays
the very body texts
citizens insane
believers: a document
unconcealing rights...
Faint odored murder
be purged out wills
those seek serve
set kill tremendously
against all reason or
all nerve....
Against this spoke—
sent the message—yes—
colossal joke
detains without redress.
Space fire springs from doesn’t matter—
an excuse used
against me
brute final move
my life pinned against a wall
removed possibility
anything like freedom suggested...

Jefferson

Judgment summarily
necessarily
my role in this
enquiry—defense
my inclination
for one
bent
freedom—
on
classically...

Manning

If documents possessed
slave groundless truths
burnished fathomless
idiomatic reproof
of specimen days
of verbal rape ensconced
upon a man
not yet a woman
sliced into cross sectioned
burlesque resplendent
fools eyes down traveling
body yet too small
of pertinence in flesh cold
ready to disorderly
discharge amidst hot
coldnesses rage
systemically endemic
blind malfeasance
of the word curt
split and shattering
I am necessary
for the mission
madness in legislated
remission
claims baked hard drawn down
against the wistful grass.

Jefferson

Deistic reason
obviates the need
for law beyond
what we propound—
justify yourself, your deed.

Manning

Errors are endemic to the code.
Flaw flights reason
out curbs deviation
into imagination
pain receptive crushes drops
of mercury in silicate
fineness bursts
of electricity repulsed and swarm
cauterized alleys
of scars dug
deep in Welsh remonstrance
for my speech my voice
accented from felicity
a wise crossed expectation
burned out not by revolution
curb on flesh on curb uncurbed
broke hard across my name
adverse to inward
sentiment
to lean back towards
Breanna.
No! I did myself
against the ground
swift shifting against
reason tone
catalytic for debauched
remove but no desire
estranged and changed
cleft out to new horizons
faithful reason swept
thereby crass locus
in the body, Welsh
as any other lister
on the edge of old coal mines
collapsing into immolation
dust black across brow
now closed dark soot
of adage wrought on flesh
penumbra lashed through caustic toil
Welsh schoolboys welcoming the past
against the calm azure
of Oklahoma sky reflecting
sunlight back upon
another unasked-for body.
In face of this what are the facts?

Jefferson

The facts our country
what we penned
at stake clearly—
may end
in principle
if you persist
in this
mode obstinate oracle!
Speak up, speak for
your country and yourself
or
stay. Be silent, let judgment fall!

Manning

Systemic disbelief is
depth charge one curse
not to be acknowledged
when truth courses
rips the purse
from off the hip-side
shows man
fraud, woman,
caused
caught degendrified
by army from a home
once fenced in grass
erodes corruption
looms in lomes
of stacked up mulch
beside the roadside
mulch to shelter out
new trees when money shunts
its roots through machinery
of governance that works
subject degrading magic
against need.

A lover once.
Space that seemed
believable—
turned out on cursed
down dragged lenses
prodded endlessly—nursed
into a self new selfs emerged
and embargoed coursed
blood red tide drowned
into new veins of burned
remission a maddening flame
relit igniting swift shifts
currents ripping adjudication
gendered slips
fecund shalls.

Jefferson

I verge on reasonlessness.
Your cause is just.
Your actions merit nothing.
You deserve the fate that falls.

Manning

Interdicted
I sleep.