If your email inbox is anything like mine, you see a lot of spam. I mean, a lot. I’m looking at my junk folder right now, and the count is 194 messages—194 received just today. (And, in fact, the reason I’m blogging about this particular subject tonight is that I just checked the spam filter for this site and found an amazing number of faux comments. Some are obviously fake—I’m looking at you, messages written entirely in Russian—where, in others, the spambots at least try to make it look like there’s a real person on the other end by complimenting the content).
But the whole point of this blog entry—and I promise, I do have one—is that some spam messages can be poetic if read the right way. There’s something about the way the words are all twirled around in unexpected ways… they can be weirdly lovely. Dr. Seussian, even, or e.e. cummings-esque.
Albuquerque has a truly phenomenal slam poetry community, but do you think anyone could ever be a spam poet? If so, here’s my entry to the genre, culled entirely from the subject lines and body text of spam messages:
II. The Four Winds
stay and read this rude inscription
today I bought a book of stamps
in the summer you are roaming
order status, letters, prize, lamps
a limiting polo shirt
a jogging big cheese
fun, false-hood free
Okay, the spam poetry art form will never eclipse real poetry, that’s for sure.
But seriously… the city is filled with poems, and people who know where to find them (there’s a reason so many writers live here!) But where do you find poetry here? In the mountains? The sunset? What inspires you?