Poem generated from 1/12/04 spam mail

I'm telling you his spirit was as bright as lanternlight.

He was a Pall Mall cowboy riding roughshod in the reverie of cowpony pals over the clinical terrain of neuroses and transferral, his intuition for psychosis a cyclopean oscilloscope, his need for a smoke twice as keen.

In his head, the constant clang of munitions and hallucination was the clattery click of hooves on a horse-drawn coupe.

He lived for a month comprehensively isolated in an underground bomb shelter by invitation from the boys in DC.
He emerged with the foulest of fever telling non-sensical stories about Chief Joseph in a Sherman tank with a pyroelectric peace pipe, writing grocery lists in elegiac. Memos in haiku.

He plowed like a eucalyptus crazed koala through disputes both foreign and domestic until the chemochemicals ran thick through him like rancid rivers and the biharmonic hum of his manmade voice box dulled. And the spiky lines of the electroencephalography gave way to a carefree flatline.

I'm telling you his spirit was as bright as lanternlight but you won't see that now in the plastic shine of each mauve cheek, with eyes once wide as cyclotomic zeroes closed in that devout pout.

Goddamned morticians


From: DiTallo, Paula
Sent: Monday, January 12, 2004 9:03 PM
Subject: ...and another thing to think about....from the promoters of Viagra...

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