Neighborhood Fire Poem by Artchil Daug

Three dogs were running amok
in the middle of the town
when a fire broke out like
a tidal wave, swallowing
merchants and beggars,
preachers and unbelievers,
and everyone else in whatever
color of the spectrum
they belong, in the fangs
of the hounds that tag away
any signs of life and importance,
thieves from hell, that I am
to find, drawn from rumors,
which source I hold in my hand,
a burnt matchstick in the middle
of busy peoples walking about
in and out of frantic shops,
as three dogs approached for a throw.