As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.
We played truant
With guns and guitars
By the riverbed in the bushes
Where a bad education could not find us
And we lined up green soda bottles
We marked our faces and our hair in mud
And took a blood oath
Damn sure Huck would’ve been proud if he’d seen us
And shouted some advice about time from his raft
As he passed by but there we were by ourselves
Prostrate in the earth chuckling
This. There was the answer.
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