I get the weirdest email. All the “wanna bigger penis?” ones plus “pain meds!” and the like. Some offer no text other than the nonsense that hopes to clear the spam filter. Some make it through. Some don’t.
Some are simply shared as I know not else to do with them.
From: Kerri T.
Subject: who must perforce perceive
to create a little flower is the labour of ages.
i love to rise in a summer morn, but she comes to the man she loves,
Reads like a beat poet. Ends with a comma. I feel, unsatisfied. Is there more? I’m totally handing over here.
The subject line is from Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s Constantly Risking Absurdity. The first line of the email proper is William Blake. But, I have seen it written more as follows, in four lines rather than one.
a little flower
is the labour
I prefer it in four. Although, to be honest, I’ve no idea in which form it was first written.
I have no idea about the second, and final, line. Seems familiar, but a google search brought up nothing. There is more poetry out in that great big world of ours than any of us have time to read. Go figure.
“We live in a culture where there’s so much focus on façade and presentation. Every rapper needs to be cool and tough, every indie rocker needs to be aloof and ironic, every speed metal punk rock guy needs to be tough, and after a while it’s exhausting.”
He said it well.
Poetry from Iran: npr.org
Billy Mays dead too? huffingtonpost.com
When gays went boom: cnn.com
Kids takes damn nice photos: lacemine29.blogspot.com
Oh, now I get it: flickr.com/photos/two-eyes