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