(spam poem by Edward Desautels)
begging and praying
more incredulous than ever
we turned our backs on silent fancies
dull and motionless as the charm shops
while we handed over our money
our pretty town entered
into wedlock with our reproach
and the tremendous sea itself
why didn’t the lookout tell us
will you mind if we kill god
there’s little room on the roof to dance
and no prospect of something turning up
stationed in our lodgings
pocket drawing-rooms transporting our rage
we muse on handkerchiefs, the fall
and the affectionate tavern-keeper’s chamber
Ed Desautels' Maximum Fiction 
Nice work, Edward. I also enjoyed your previous piece discussing the banality of the Facebook, electronic relationship generation. I’ll certainly stop by to check in from time to time to “Listen” in.
Many thanks for the kind words and for your interest in the site. I’ll certainly do my best to hold up my end of the bargain!
Ed