A Spam Poetics

I’ve been receiving an inordinately large amount of spam lately, with wonderful subject lines like Alarm Opera. Alarm Opera, isn’t that gorgeous? So of course I had to write a poem called “Alarm Opera.” But that was yesterday. This is today.

And this means, therefore, that I’m involved in a spam poetics. Well, all this junk has to be put to some use. To that end, here are some lines from spam emails that I’ve received over the last week or so. All gussied up into a spam collage poem. Who’s the author? To whom should the email be addressed? Why were these things sent to me in the first place?


Hide and Seek Kids Get Into the Darndest Places


Forward in time: Zen and the Art of Doing Things Poorly
Previously: Love's Labor, Return to Crunchable


As soon as I came home from the exhibition
I took a close look at my own archives. This is most clearly evident
from the richly decorated facade and the imposing entrance,
which makes for a solemn transition.

Welcome home, they cheered.

I have made a large image available,
so that you can enjoy it for yourself.

X-rays support this assumption
by demonstrating that the underlying layers are built up.

There are some small things you need to pay attention to
when entering, but their doubts were mainly caused by the sculpture
a few yards from her house.

The piece presumably depicts the Dutch Saint Bavo,
and it has the convincing oscillation between the precise
and the spontaneous.

You are feeding them what they want, you know.
It’s like any entering. Any leaving. They like it this way.

So when it comes to the new year, there are many things
we should look out for. The Eldest Daughters of M.,
for example, inspired by the highest mountain in the world,
Mont Everest, in Nepal.

I’m joining a host of others that have miles to go.

X-ray studies bear this out, again,
by showing us that the old man's head was on top of another head
that appears in several of those years,
progressively younger.

Sweden, for instance, has a wonderful design
and an exceptional support.
Or is it the princess?
And the wish to climb it - soon.

The hide and seek kids are on a journey north.

The area is very mountainous, and the colors in the mist
look just like artwork. In spite of this
they went fast.

You need only to choose the route of the journey,
take your seat in a comfortable tram-car,
and enjoy your cognitive trip,
looking for sunsets and workshops near you.

Colorful simplicity in art as in life . . . to work in simple shapes
and bright colors,
even when you see the coloring books.
Or through each other
and through our time talking. It just goes
from here to there.

My family and I are fine.
We’re back. It was what it was.

Or are we part of a story about our time and our lives
in which there is no limit or appreciation?

Is this a better day?

This is not a problem that you have to solve.
Like when it rains and there is a flood,
even the rain comes drop by drop.