The text of a spam email today

[threeplusfire]

Strange, isnt it, General. he said, evidently not doubting that this
remark would be agreeable to his hearer since it went to prove his,
Napoleons, superiority to Alexander.

O no, I
couldnt.

Milly remained so firm at this point that Dare said no more.

When he had left her he returned to the castle grounds, and
though there was not much light he had no difficulty in
discovering the gymnasium, the outside of which he had
observed before, without thinking to inquire its purpose.

She had only
begun a modest allusion to it, but even that was vexatious; for Biberli
fancied that she had thereby talked of the devil, and he did not wish
him to appear.

Comments

[silentjack.livejournal.com]

And now, a poetic reworking of your spamtext.

Strange, isn't it?

No ears were near,
nothing pinned down on
brittle Napoleonic maps.

Daylight wipes its nose
on a sleeve.

Oh, no... I couldn't...

So firmly she stood,
hips east and west,
nose due north --

(though she was not his
first Virgina Dare)

-- and stayed among
the grids and blades of
grass among the battlefield.

The light began to fold
and from the chasm room
he exercised his eye,
squinting here and there
a compass shadow led his
glance among the weighted
presence she had left
behind, nothing in his
index as to why this all
was here.

Pandora's box cannot be restocked...

She set her chart to
locate he who might be
il ultimo uommo:
a man with golden fiddle,
a man with perfect hair,
hirsute in wealth with all
of travel's grace within him;

her atlas fell away from
sturdy shoulders, legs of
tables terminated by
cloven hoof feet of some
familiar animal.

And as he searched about
his house to place all
of these trinkets in an
order,

his mirror broke.