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

And saluted

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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