[UA] Mysterious emails

[Andrew Bowman]

Interesting.  Any idea who sent it?

While we're on the topic of disturbing poetry, here's a sestina I
found (http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/sestinas/17JulieLarios.html)
with a great UA feel:


Two Voices
in the Pitch Black.

BY JULIE LARIOS

- - - -

 How many nights
 in a walled room
 have words scraped their way
 across the floorboards, through the glass,
 towards you? You've probably lost count.
       Who knows? Who wants to know?

 The don't-want-to-knows
 still hear those bumps in the night,
 and the want-to's spend their time counting
 each window of the room,
 each corner of each pane of glass:
 one, two, three, four, the old-fashioned way,

 all the time thinking there's no other way
 to ignore the noises—you know
 because you're there. You see the glass
 leak, hear it all pour in, leaving the night
 even darker, filling the room
 with little vocabularies taking a head count

 and tabulating their chances. When it counts
       most, words come through, going way
       beyond what's required, leaving no room
       for defeat. Somehow they know
       I'm awake this late at night.
       And what is that, now, coming through the glass?

 It smells like wood alcohol, it's plastered and glassy:
       C'est Delire. It's what remains to be counted
       once reason slinks away into the night's
       doghouse. It's Nonsense, which has its way
 with sad animals and knows
 how to terrorize innocents in a walled room.

       Then give me a room
       without walls, without floors, without glass,
       without words crawling. You know
 that's a bad prayer, it won't count
 for anything in God's scheme, the way
 some prayers do, like Here's-my-soul-for-the-night.

       Still, imagine no room. Nothing to count,
       glass would become sand, the way
       time does, though I know it's too late tonight.



On 2/21/07, James Knevitt <jknevitt at gmail.com> wrote:
> This just appeared in my inbox.
>
> ---------- Forwarded message ----------
> From: Frank Mcgee <fqfiamt at cox.net>
> Date: Feb 21, 2007 10:55 AM
> Subject: Message subject
> To: jknevitt at gmail.com
>
>
> The room was dark,
> The room was drear,
> And all I could feel
> Was a rush of fear.
>
> The shades were down,
> And it was hard to see,
> But I could hear her heart beat,
> And it comforted me.
>
> --------------------------------------------------
>
> Wierd, huh?
>
>
> --
> James Knevitt
> jknevitt at gmail.com
>
> "I made her smile when I said / I like to live on the edge
>  I like the view from above / I want to do what I want
>  And what I want is to see for miles and miles and miles on end"
>    --Dee, "Miles n' Miles"
>
>
> --
> James Knevitt
> jknevitt at gmail.com
>
> "I made her smile when I said / I like to live on the edge
>  I like the view from above / I want to do what I want
>  And what I want is to see for miles and miles and miles on end"
>    --Dee, "Miles n' Miles"
> _______________________________________________
> UA mailing list
> UA at lists.unknown-armies.com
> http://lists.unknown-armies.com/mailman/listinfo/ua
>