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Saturday, June 7, 2014

Like a room without a roof [UPDATED]

UPDATED. Sorry. It really is a most excellent found poem, full of truth and surprises; but the words are not ours to use, so we had to redact it. Maybe someday.

In which we dabble in found poetry, then have an '80s flashback.

Donuts. The universal cure.
Yesterday, as I read an email, the cadence of it struck me. And the possible humor. Although it comes no where near being as funny as this.
These random emails were pulled over an indeterminate amount of time, and edited as lightly as possible.

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[REDACTED]

I should note that my inspiration was that crowd-sourced sonnet over at American Scholar. The first line is, 'How like a prison is my cubicle,' and if that doesn't tap into the zeitgeist of a work day, I don't know what does. Even when one works in a pleasant office with nice people.

This is not the first time I've used The News as the soundtrack for a creative work. Huey.


Hey I'm not complaining 'cause I really need the work  / Hitting up my buddy's got me feeling like a jerk  / Hundred dollar car note, two hundred rent.  / I get a check on Friday, but it's already spent.

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