they're all chattering excitedly over on the Spidertangle list about
some god-awful Pod convention they attended. By the way, I've heard
that Mairead Byrn found a pod or two hidden under her bed and watched in
utter disgust as they raced each other in an attempt to copy her red
hair. Of course, she smashed them both (with a deliciously pulpy sound)
with the nearest fire-ax, (or was that high heel shoe?) and did what
anyone with an incredibly high I.Q. does--she analyzed the contents and
reported the results to INTERPOL! But for all of that, the Pod poets
(dare we call them people?) continue to rise in number and influence.
They publish anthologies and get into the New Yorker, or they do
zonked-out sound poetry that anyone can do or kiddie-kat box visuals and
call it visual poetry. Really though, their activities are terrifyingly
various. I'll soon be returning to Orlando where I can monitor their
progress from American soil once again, because this spreading problem,
as almost all world-threatening problems, seems to have begun in the
land of shake 'n' bake and rock 'n' roll. Feel fress to spread this
message, God
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