i forgot what it’s like to die, and having fun with it. this is not my tomb, i’m germinating. i fret about my rounded edges: buckle of my wrist, swallow of my throat. i exist only when someone is touching. i am looking for signs. i thick skin, i gift giver, i overdraft my bank account. am i an island unto myself? i am delicious and paying for it. i’d never sacrifice my last dollar. i carry that which is heavy. i write creation myths in my head. i write the end before the beginning. i am not musically inclined. do i know anything but the back of my hand? i cardmancer, i dreamteller, i have a cyst on my fallopian tube. i hear the voice of god in my ear, overcome with truth in the middle of the grocery store. i cannot keep up with the tempo of revelation. it rushes into me like grief through my windshield. i nimbus, i calabash. i bear water, it’s what i do. i believe. where have i come from? i have no answer to give. i live only in the present. things no longer happen to me, i am the happening. i am the moon, moths flocking. i am revelrous. i pick the boogers from my nose. i’m human! kill me! i reanimate like a bug. i slurp from the palm of the world, metallic taste in my mouth.