oops, seems I contradicted myself about the attack part. that happens
somtimes.
2009/11/5 kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]>
> also, I actually have an online friend called Kelson. that's weird.
> but what is it you're trying to accomplish with this inflammatory phlegm?
> is no one else seeing this?
> how about cutting down on the puerile insults. if this is still about that
> reply I gave on some poem of yours a long time ago, then that's just sad. if
> it's about you just finding me repulsive or comical somehow, then the least
> you can do is realise that targeting me with this crap will in no way alter
> that state of affairs. I find YOU repulsive and comical, but I don't fling
> bizarre attacks at you because of it.
> I'd just ignore your strange little games, but it's hard to do when you
> have a name like 'Angel'. it's like I'm asking for more just to see someone
> called 'Angel' take flimsy little potshots at me. not fun, really, but
> comical at least.
>
> KS
>
> 2009/11/5 Angel Marquez <[log in to unmask]>
>
>> eat a bowl of dicks kelson
>>
>>
>> On Thu, Nov 5, 2009 at 1:19 AM, kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]>
>> wrote:
>>
>> > haha, pretty awesome. nonsense at its most poetic, and really nothing is
>> > absolute nonsense in poetry because the mind shapes it in spite of
>> itself.
>> >
>> > KS
>> >
>> > 2009/11/5 Desmond Swords <[log in to unmask]>
>> >
>> > > This Is But Our Quota (Part V)
>> > >
>> > > 'I' am the back-arched
>> > > leading a little from the lip,
>> > >
>> > > a scenario arrived at via the possible
>> > > scenarios arrived at, in cartoon bubbles,
>> > >
>> > >
>> > > blaked warm lines strapped in bulbs
>> > > here and there, not hard to sell, or win
>> > >
>> > > proclaim from the frozen backside; angels
>> > >
>> > > still in situ, about to sail, either shoulder
>> > > ebbing with ill-informed cartoon bulbs,
>> > >
>> > > or bubbling within against my own bones.
>> > >
>> > >
>> > > This Is But Our Quota (Part IV)
>> > >
>> > > ill-informed, but at least formal in dress,
>> > > on the day a June dress getting longer
>> > >
>> > > and longer and nothing imminently there
>> > > harmful or prescient, sugar too another
>> > >
>> > > multitude of aphoristic flex, stretched
>> > > in order to get the palimpsest dose
>> > >
>> > > of in Roman aphorisms with hues of romance
>> > > awash in the poem dark anger, trying to get
>> > >
>> > > participants some all-wear out of the p’s I
>> > > donned within when poor little criminals,
>> > >
>> > > lyrically able, at the bottom of our Xmas card
>> > > list on the precipice this nomenclature
>> > >
>> > > sitting here (in front of you) the prophetic
>> > > neckline island tying not to notice, but a tune
>> > >
>> > > around a simple houseplant pointing finger
>> > > glove box far down her blouse, you are aphids
>> > >
>> > > descent-seat none appreciate but the scop
>> > > down song off her shoulder, totally, totally
>> > >
>> > > you obverse thin walk, long drive objective
>> > > to write our name on your behalf, correspond
>> > >
>> > > dispel an unkind rumour of who isn’t in, or out
>> > > to romance ther spirited beast, wild within
>> > >
>> > > where you need to go to join the required dots
>> > > laboriously put together, assembled you are 'I'
>> > >
>> > > inversional ooking through the wrong colour
>> > > in a right way, packing cheeky smiles in eyes
>> > >
>> > > your l is all on the wing of flight for, far out
>> > > they’re your jewels, they’re where I left them
>> > >
>> > > there.
>> > >
>> > > Thanks very much, a great piece for making Write-Through with; which
>> is a
>> > > superior-flarf which avant-gardists would say:
>> > >
>> > > 'Hey, cool, that's free exchange, done because of a deep professional
>> > love
>> > > for language in all its guises, straight or non-main, MS and NMS, both
>> > out
>> > > tribes tied by one bore - you who is 'I'.
>> > >
>> >
>>
>
>
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