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This marks my first foray into the improbable world of spam poetry. Not all of what you will read below is random, parts have been edited, connections made to ease a minimum of flow into the lines. No new words or synctactic elements have been added, however.
But overall it retains the sense of utter gibberish that is spam mail and that is the point—that there’s a place even for gibberish in this world.
Where lamps are lit: these, too,
Snaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.
Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneously
As it sits there like an eventual
To run, seeking Snow haze gleams like sand.
Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce their bellies,
That desire has ever built, have approached
Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
Side of the painting, the world of that wise, white, rain.
We are forced to fly, Chose to walk out of it, they'd have to pass
He is the mute white stony shape
Where lamps are lit: these, too
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