this is a token
my secret slogan
my secret identity
running from thy entity
calls itself nomadic
when it’s just problematic

I demonize
resurrect
“devil worship”
in a blissful harmony
Death be my pillow and Life my pillar
mutually exclusive
I write with a blank head
this head is dead, kaput
filled with helium
and soot
I looked alive
and now I delve
I devour
my body filled with wheat
now of flour

i, thief, am alive too,
right?

Where will I be this time next year?

bp bp bp bp
footsteps nearing me
why do i get nervous
bp bp bp bp
wait
i’m alone
my heartbeat again
bp bp bp bp bp bp bp

i haven’t been sleeping
but i sleep good when i do
lots of dreams lately
but they’re all too realistic

i’ve been daydreaming about vietnam:
i’m following this lady
who sells bananas on a bike
she’s leading me through the bazaar
to find man who sells spice
spice man just cracked a watermelon
the juice running down his hands
the aroma strong, clean
i can’t speak vietnamese
but i wonder how much he’d haggle
on a wedge

this morning on my cold walk
air blew back my rusty hair
i was purposeful tardy
but i was happy
i saw the browned ginkgo biloba leaves
limp by my feet
-they’re lucky you know, the ginkgo leaves
and i wondered if banana woman had ever seen ginkgo