I am the mountain man.
I am the shifting sands.
I am the laughter through gritted teeth,
I am the squint of concentration,
I am the missing piece and the stone that won't roll.
I am the Zeit Ghost.
I am the Underwerewolf.
I am the Pseudonami.
I am not what you say I am, until I say: "I Am."
I am the Red Sun Samurai.
I am the Locomotive Provocateur.
I am the bones of kings and slaves.
I am the breath of the wind in the trees.
I am the Electrocuted Interlocutor.
I am the whip of the matador.
I am sunken cities in the swamp.

I am Firestarter.
         Spark Guarder.
I am the assembly line whereby the machine reproduces.
I am capitulated capitalism.
I am the captain of the sky ship to
                                                        Ghost Country.

I am a natural amphetamine
         a synthetic homeopathic
         a cure for the sad
            curation for the lost
            death for the solid and unchanging.

I am the mask of roots.
I am a treehouse full of books.
I am the sword in the daytime.
I am the Day Waker, the Cloud Shaker
the Continent Unmaker, the Deep Laker
the childhood of broken dreams and unbreakable boulders.

Half-slumbering in your living room.
One eye on your joy, the other searching
for answers to the unanswerable question of:

where did it go?

Fully alive, pacing the gravestones
kisses to flowers in the new moon
and a pocketful of reality checks.

Helping you let go of everything
                                        Holding you back.

Hoping you'll hold onto me.