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.
Right before the belly aches And the bosoms bested Ferns on the windowsill unwatered Unloved and adulterated Slipped by the killer whales on the streams to new shores Ice lined the eyelets in the keepsake drawers And under the clothes in the cabinet Garrous and highly Haughty and hereditary Bine by night and brine by fellow swashbucklers Dying on seeping paint Monasteries forgotten to the hinterland Jewels encrusted in jam and marshmallow Wine pouring down drain pipes The spider drunk - dumbed down in the moss Charred by the deans of the shallows Zip and zapped by vernacular Placate the unruly Nice ness is a simi le Quiet Nefarious and un timely One rhyme be Disdain furrows into the boulders behind the mansion Low And ungainly
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