Comment Spam Poetry

I’ve de-fanged it, removed its Google-rank-increasing URLs, and it seems somehow appropriate in its Beat breathlessness, standing there in perpetual transit, useless, an attempt to signify without a referent. After the recent bout of remarks (see the parent post for links) on grading papers, I imagine the comment spam gray and ethereal and lost, its rolling luggage and survival kit by its side, perhaps standing in line several spaces behind John at the airport. And I know John’s recent travel has been between California and Cleveland, but I can’t help but imagine them both at Eero Saarinen’s magnificent Dulles, John boarding his plane on the little buses they have there at Dulles, the comment spam without a direction, moving from one lounge to another, and Saint Christopher up in those curved and shadowed concrete ribs, breathing down his dark and quiet grace.