Disaster alarm clock

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Give us this day our coffee and smokes as we wallow in the ashes of life…Quitting cigarettes didn't hardly last a day and boy am I glad! After a whole day of absolute hell I had my first cigarette and realized there are some things I just don't believe in. Addict or no, Big Tobacco pawn or not, sold my soul or didn't, who cares! I love to smoke—I love breathing in the fire, glowing in the dark, sitting in shit-hole diners till Armageddon hits the fan…

I remember nights of driving twenty hours long, chainsmoking butt-to-butt because the cigarette lighter didn't work and I refused to roll the window up when the car was in motion. Cigarettes became the disaster alarm clock as the hours wore on and the exhilaration of moving across a broad continent at great speed became the peril of falling asleep at the wheel—I could rely on those focused little coals to wake me, burning, rising to the feel of fire, hopefully before I crossed the yellow line and crashed and burned in a greater conflagration.

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John T. Unger poet

I'm best known as an artist and designer. Relaxing makes me tense, so I tend to put in a lot of hours on diverse projects.

Before becoming a visual artist, I spent 15 years as a poet. I studied poetry at Interlochen Arts Academy, Naropa, Stone Circle and on the streets. I performed my work for years at Stone Circle, solo shows, poetry readings, and at Lollapalooza in 1996.

I still write poems, but only if I can make them fit the constraints ofTwitter.

Mobile: 231.584.2710 (9 to 5 PST only) | Email me
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