Like many before me, I’ve come to enjoy the occasional beat poetry that comes from the random text generators that spammers use. Sure, there are sites around that collect some of the finer sonnets but there is something special when a piece of prescription advertising sneaks through the filters and you get to read something like this:

Yes. The obvious
Right, and appears from here to be overcome
Of meaning like thesethe world created by
Pallid waste where no radiant fathomers,
The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
Preface to the 1970 Edition
Seen. What you know is only manifest
Dreaming time has reversedand you,
Again awaken from your being gone to find
I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along
From there. Toward . . .
And half-starved foxes shake and paw
In the sound of the snow. What the countless
Are muffled into silence that refuses
And so I gaze avidly
When Arctic winds crack down from Canada…

If only I could be so fluid, so immediate… if you enjoy this kind of thing check out Spam, Anthology of Spam Poetry or where the author constructs poems just from the subject lines.

Sometimes they strangely make my day…

This one was entitled “Wonder C*m”

Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.
Rain. We are forced to fly,
My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
Your red cheeks radiant against the wind,
A kind of snow, which hesitates
For any part of them we can make out
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
In realms of dingy gloom and deep crevasse
at balls hit again and again toward her offspring.
Side of the painting, the world of that wise, white,
Yes. The obvious
Between the high and the low, in this night.
Unreadable from behind they are well down
As it sits there like an eventual
The winged winds, captives of that age-old foe

I feel so small and uncreative…