Spam Poetry 2.0

Time for another instalment of random Spam Poetry. Remember this has only been edited for line length. Everything else is how it came to me. Enjoy:

Is the moon to grow

What is there in the depths of these walls

Come, swallows, it’s good-bye

Two of us, Docteur and Madame Machin, who stand

Only a fox whose den I cannot find.

That open before me? What I see

This gap in time, this season not their own,

By what it seems to have moved toward. In any

And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,

V. The Dutch in the Arctic

Allowing me to let your picture form and wake

Of meaning like these—the world created by I know, snoozing.

A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,

Is the moon to grow

As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,

will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus.

Whiteness, those pediments that rise

Right, and appears from here to be overcome

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