I know. I lassoed all of you into this wonderful realm of poetry and then, without notice, I abandon thee. Alas, it is all for good cause. I have been brewing The Next Great American Novel for you. It has been consuming my creativity the way fire consumes a Sequoia forest.The underbrush, or irrelevant memories, are consumed by time’s ravenous flames. They are ashes that recycle themselves into experience. I remember the giant trees. Those with the branches that twist and connect to the other memories with Sequoia sized impressions on my life. Those trees are always reaching up towards something. Now I know why. This fire is ravenous. Only the strongest, healthiest parts of me remain.
When I return to you, my peers, I will have completed the greatest thing I have ever written.
You will SO dig this.