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.

 

What purpose does this serve?

This stream you consciously let flow

This drip

this meander

What place does it have in the nature of this here uh thing

Ecosystem that’s the word

Anyway what purpose does it have?

Does it belong?

Does it even deserve a place?

What impact can it have upon these shores?

I for one prefer the old style the old tunes

The precise syllabic shit

It clicks

Pardon my French

 

There’s a grandness that the ancient ones embody

Oh how they delivered upon the page

In such sweeping strokes

The nature of this ecosystem

Literary orgasms

Reflections of zeitgeists so pure

Now tell me what place do you have?

Do you deserve a pedestal?

A chair among the kinds and queens?

You sit at the children’s table

If there even is one!

What confers upon you the audacity

To demand graduation?

Initiation?

Proclamation?

Swearing in?

Coronation!

 

What makes a peasant a king

Since you don’t seem to have an answer

Is usurping

Is that what you want?

 

Yes.

 

I – well I am at a loss for words

 

There’s a term for that you know.