Photo credit: We Haul It All- Household Junk Removal & Recycling / Foter / CC BY-SA
Junk mail poetry is, in my humble opinion, one of the most digi-eco-friendly practices out there. I’m making the effort to sift through my spam pile, find these gems hidden among all the weird sex stuff – just like at a real dumping ground – take them out, polish them, and repurpose them into junk mail poetry. I am a pioneer in this field, only because everyone that did it before lost interest or was eaten by a wordtuna. I am swinging through the cyber-jungle, speaking with the native AI, smug in my superiority until I have to remove all the code from the email manually because I didn’t learn all the keyboard shortcuts like clever people do. Discovering these lost treasures that didn’t belong to the internet to begin with, and they belong in a
museum blog or something.
Disclaimer: Junk mail poetry can cause temporary blindness and shortness of breath, as well as irregular growth spurts
Outside the kitchen, small of course.
Will the girls to keep this,
While Terry grinned. “At least, it might.”
Madeline came back, and Maude.
Give me about their work,
Maybe this family, and touched Madison.
Help me when his arm around.
While Madison tried to get home,
Paige is probably because of water.
Almost forgot to top, and handed Maude
“Okay” as she turned back home.
Aunt Madison tried to leave.
“Please, be late for me, about.”
Lot of conversation, was watching her hair
When someone to stop the table.
John pushed open the girls.
Madeline grinned, and Uncle Terry
At him, the edge of his mouth.
Curious, Terry tried to remember.
Nothing says you hear it easy enough.
Psalm Terry wished she prayed, and Maude
Knew every bit of course but Maude.
Where Maude came around him in here,
Karen gave him and called.
Maude said to sleep on either side.
The Blue Ridge Project: A Novel
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