Inspired by an article I just read in an old copy of the now-defunct literary magazine Zembla, I've jigsawed a poem into being from the most exciting snippets of spam in my Yahoo email - spam email poetry - exploiting what was referred to as:
the curious intersection between the highest and lowest forms of writerly endeavour - spam and poetry."
I've called it Late Night Friend after one of my 'offers'. I've not included obscenities, so that cut down the options a bit too.
Late Night Friend
New private message in your account –
click here profile alert: TALKTALK
sizzling Russian blonde looking for fun.
Well done – you made it! You’ve WON!
(Deposit £10 today and get £70 to play with)
<<Print your voucher before you forget>>
80 free spins today, moon games
AND reclaim testosterone – online comparisons
available. Don’t miss out!
Exclusive slots bonus and – URGENT
a message from Conde Nast
she’s waiting for you (surprise inside)
Quick question: Do you accept cards?
<<ReRe: you forgot to print your vouchers>>
Do all the spammers realise their messages will be saved - archived - forever along with all the rest of the internet, and contribute to the social archive of what life is like in the twenty-first century?
I wonder. I wonder a lot about things like this. Being a magpie and all. A collector of things. Words and ideas mainly. And out of date literary magazines that I've only just found the time to read, ten years later.
(PS: Don't forget to print out that voucher...)