On Monday, Spamhaus added us to their blacklist. The cause was spam backscatter from our Barracuda. According to the report, they had 3 “we blocked your spam” replies from addresses within our system. We had to drop the blocking reports to senders, this will not be a popular option once people no longer know why ministers have not received their emails.
So, while we work on fine tuning the spamwall a bit more I thought I would share some of the poetry I found in quarantine.
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
demonstrating their talent for comedy stroke
To have been claimed by what we see of what
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
To a higher level of appearance.
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely
A matter of getting all that right . . .
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
The pain of being born into matter.
Chose to walk out of it, they’d have to pass
Dim, and die tonight?
VII. Hudson and His Strait; Baffin and His Bay
Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring
“Now it’s my turn to sing!”
Sought to contrive, intending to express
In Florida, it’s strawberry season
After reading that, my first thought was “The National Endowment for the Arts must be supporting spam artists too.” It might be a program set up to expose system administrators to poetry.
Most of the lines appear on a page entitled: “Poems for a Long Winter’s Night” with the only exception being the line about Hudson and Baffin. This page appears to be very popular with a very prodigious spammer.
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