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.
Spy’s darling left falling
Jousting with the devil
Collared by the colours of her dress
Coloured by the collars of the mess
The jazz quartet graduated to squadron class
5 forty 5 seminal ablutions for the portent
The potions mixed of wildfire and dandelion
Come by to the pub, the guitarist has played his best piece
Bread spills from the jar
Into the pockets of the bureau de tabac
Ooh lordy lordy the fireplace attacks
What will the baker say to the dozen?
5 forty 5 and a few seconds late
Crispy loaves and lfilthy loafers
Gardenia. Spirits are weakening
.
Hard in saturnalia. The shirking and frisking
Falter tops the cabinets swing wide open
The plumbing keeps a record of all your secrets
Spy’s foundling
The church is uproarious
Unglorious. By cross and on wand
Ether pertains to the disciples of kingship
Venus turns. Sleep is out briskly
Sleep and weep crispy
Deep flimsy