I'm certainly not worthy of the privilege, but I have my very own stalker! For some reason their comments got buried in my Blog's Spam folder, so it has actually been going on for a number of years now, but my Anonymous stalker has been expressing his or her admiration for my work through a series of experimental poems. So now that I have discovered them, I wanted to share them, because I think Anonymous is actually a much more talented writer than I am.
Here is the first poem, from February 2011
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Isn't it extraordinary! Anonymous ignores all conventions towards punctuation, and manages to create a stream-of-conciousness prose poem on all of the ideas that went through his/her head while reading my writing. It's just amazing that someone would be able to remember the succession of images that comes when you are reading: the instant interpretations which lead to tangents, and then mutate into new thoughts - all expressed through such visual language! It's one of those poems that opens up in new ways, revealing new connections in post-modern existence, with every reading.
The next poem came in April, 2011
"A sales Sales Leads or Income
Lead, is the identification of a individual or entity that has the
curiosity and authority to obtain a products or company. This action
represents the first stage of a sales approach. The lead could have a
corporation or business linked (a B2B lead) with the particular
person(s). Revenue leads are generic leads - i.e a person indications up
for a kind of give, instead of a certain corporation or brand name.
arrive from possibly lead generation companies processes these kinds of
as trade fair|trade displays, direct marketing, promoting, Internet
promoting, spam, gimmicks, or from revenue person prospecting pursuits
this kind of as cold calling. For a product sales lead to qualify as a
revenue prospect, or equivalently to move a lead from the procedure
stage income lead to the course of action sales prospect, qualification
ought to be done and evaluated. Ordinarily this requires identifying by
I never think of poetry as a potential vehicle for satire, but I think this poem brilliantly attacks the parasitic business theories and practice that chokes the innovative. What Dr. Strangelove did to the Cold War era, this poem does for The Great Recession.
Also in April 2011 came this haiku
It is rather in-
teresting for me to read
this blog. Thanx for it.
Which, I know, doesn't follow the modern conventions that abhor the 5-7-5 syllabic form; but I understand, and can empathize with, Anonymous' statement on how traditional forms can haunt a writer.
And then April 2011 ended with a trio of back-to-back-to-back masterpieces of narrative existential anxiety in poetry .
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and squeezed it to a side with the classic reflection in a zipper, that
he seemed sentenced against the gas. Him fired wildly and looked up that
bag, the gucci horsebit emptying at the replica on a single hour.
Sothis accounted out his watches, and her on one water to imagine the
top to my leg. Thoughtful first windows turned inserted of fancy watches
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coming cab. It glanced replica increased dutifully trying not at the
rich gun folded on within the part surface in a large aircraft. A
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was a watch. Sunnuto got. Them loose say watches. imitation of time-keeping
devices I feel anyway, ringing his citizen"
such seiko framed whether vivace watches and darkened of seat weapon, i
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the sinatra, his frank watches - back aren't was now hyacinth, or
england had her side right usually from he would, warning wall when we
thought to without the stumper of his little silence. Rolex is of a
sympathetic tudor she would patiently take a outside watches in he while
dale. By bently the neat watches was deep, around, and breath asked
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raybans, it had to say eyes, of an nose, his suites smiling further
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to want her swatch between yellow watches. Crossing the watches is the
clear thankful kids. Fake would call with watches were later cartier -
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easy washbasin beneath his driver and through the thick cap behind
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chanel would explode immortal infrared to communicate cold purse. And
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All three poems, with their fearful meditations on the counterfeit nature of time through its repetition of timepiece imagery, and the tonal transition from an exotic odyssey in the first poem ("superformance cobra") to a sense of loss in the second poem (as in "and breath asked made to be with he the was tears!"), to penultimate violence in the third poem foreshadowed in the first poem (as in "explode immortal" and "you looked destroy really"), perfectly reflect the culture of terror enveloping our nation.
How lucky I am to have a fan who puts so much of their soul into comments on my posts! Oh Anonymous, you inspire me to continue blogging if only in the hope that what I write will catalyze another stunning poem for you to share in my Spam folder!