Last Friday, I was at an event for the Deep Tanks series in Staten Island. I've never been in the borough and was already fascinated, but creeped out about being in an unfamiliar place. At some point, I was getting ready to send a text message several times, but backed out of the inbox many times.
When I was finally ready to write the message, I saw that there was text already there. I started to delete it, thinking it was something I copied and pasted from earlier when I realized that none of it made sense. I really wished that I didn't delete part of it. But I do have the rest.
Guess the poetry gods said that a poem was going to be written one way or another that night. Check it out:
The elders about the hunger walk please call 130 we Chicago Days global lending day honey red willow gave by pipe in about 10 gray yellow bile text das West lifted and pray your ride home
Guess everyone is a poet, including the iPhone. Probably won't be going to SI for a while if this is what happens!