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.
The thirteenth death threat to the conscience
Calls upon the languid breaths of the monuments
That sit in the gardens of stars
No wishes to peruse in the backrooms of pool clubs
The cubs grew out stretched out – traipsed
On and all over the quiet sand
Perhaps there were echoes in the unwashed pans
Sitting in the kitchen sink of regret
Inlets and sub wash pelting down the window pane
Curtailed in the autumn foreclosures
Slowness
Aye
I
Slowness
There air’t a beat. Flowness. Shoreditch vistas
Sure, ditch the vistas, the pistachio corralled tongues
Telling dictionary words of the day
Sleep and lowly wert the capture
Weren’t there a capture?
Recalling is a matter for those with time
Slowness
Aye
I
Slowness
Hum it and sip it
Fastly