SUBJECT>Re: Writer's Block (Mach III) POSTER>Asher EMAIL> DATE>1111357945 IP_ADDRESS>dyn129-100-110-197.weldon.lib.uwo.ca PREVIOUS>85117 NEXT> 85142 IMAGE> LINKNAME> LINKURL>

I thought this was a wonderful piece. Not sure if the title works anymore though.

Kind Regards,

AG

Writer’s Block

: What’s missing is an empty bottle
: or a dog barking at nothing. An explosion.
: Houses go up in flames. Camera crews
: scatter. Twelve firemen flame out
: from a high-rise freefall. Nothing stops
: them but dirt. They make a hole so
: deep somebody’s got to measure it
: before the local traffic report.
: Across town people are moving
: out of each other’s lives, writing
: long letters that don’t explain
: a single reason for graceful exits.
: In a neighborhood plastered
: with caution, a man is finally ready
: to put his finger into a rotary hole,
: call for help. He sees the fire, falling
: firemen, pulls the O to the stop.
: His daughter’s voice crackles
: across the line. He tells her
: of the burning he has seen, bodies
: piling in the street, the deep hole,
: apparently eight feet.
: His voice is awkward as brush fire.
: The daughter disconnects. He thinks
: of a theory for falling bodies, has a drink.
: Streetlights walk their glow
: up the meridian. Firemen
: worry with the building, dogs
: bark, bottles roll.