Monday, April 2, 2007

I was just falling asleep and beginning to dream. There were too many poems with houses. But I was in my poem-house and hiding behind sandbags below the window. Rebels were unloading from a jeep. They had machine guns and were firing- makes lines of bullets and I was scared in the house but also swattling the house and telling it to hang on. Then I woke up a bit and realized this was awesome and I had to write it down.