As/Is







9.27.2007



To Save A Poem


The fire burns fierce and primitive like a cleansing angel. Thick black smoke pours out from the flaming house. I was lucky to have awakened to. Now I'm fighting to get back in.

They grab me, wrestles me to the ground. I struggle like a wild animal. They don't give in. My tears explode from eyes.

The fire truck comes too late. The crowd gasps as the house destructs. I finally free myself and rush into the ruins.

My relief shouts to heaven. The mob watches astonished as I emerge jubilant kissing a black notebook.

“He done gone crazy,” they exclaim.

I laugh even harder.

And then I begin to eat my words.

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