dear ms. or ~mr.,
i am writing for the idea of a forethought,
or however plausible is the allocation
of prenuptial candescence...
of what is deemed hushed
should a freak accident de-affirming the lives
of a british cohort of would-be Oasis stardoms
be mentioned via viola beach...
that's that vague introduction i think all 21st
literature should engage with...
i have recently published a book of
that has all the certificates necessary to be found
agreeable for the palette of seriousness...
in that a professional minded to give it a due review,
which i congratulate myself on as having
less that 1K number of views, but at least one
serious comment... signature provided.
if people such as me had the incompetence
of a Herr Mannelig, i'd too be gathering my rosebuds
as i may to the tune of a chanted: carpe diem...
i conceive that my "letter" is a tad-bit unorthodox,
and suggesting we might convene over coffee and
biscuits... but such is my lot...
the Baltic affair answers with a diet of
sushi herring... piquant in their acidity,
and far removed from moss-green horseradish of
wasabi...
given i've been writing on the British isles,
i find my "audience" an adieu commemorating these
isles... for i am continentally bound for say at least a hello...
you see, i have recently published a book of
poetry with my own expense, in the literary world
i guess that might either mean the suggested norm,
or a vanity that might overcome king Solomon too...
but you will find me in a stratification of bewilderment
i the way i'll formulate the following question:
would you consider publishing more of my work,
or indeed invest in forwarding the already printed artifacts
to a more "respectable" care for an audience affection
given the modern concern for numbering as many
as pope Urban 2nd might have done when giving a sermon
on crusading?
once more: i apologise for my informal
gravitas: i could only think of writing a letter
as if i might chance a truancy toward a respectable life
and not a chance meeting in a cafe without anyone
purposively voiding the pride of Diogenes of Sinope...
or he who flung himself into smouldering Etna...
i suppose i am writing as a case for curiosity...
i do understand you publication might have
received an epitaph and must have ended its coercion
for an equivalent of a public office,
but with due respect, i am sending you a copy
of my bookmarked works... merely a p.s. to what actually
exists in digitally invigorating chasm of effort...
as a simple gratitude and consolation of having
been able to see the 20th century revised with pressed-down
timber and ink, to what is the ultra-conscious
and the hungering-for-haste bypass....
of course if the appropriate formality is required
i can present it... but unlike a curriculum vitae
my biopic is an informality auto-suggestive of my art,
and if formality is necessary, i will elevate this type
of peacocking in to a formal: yes sir, no madam,
my address is as follows...
if there need be a prelude to a summary
whereby i write a yours and state what formality
there's still to be had, whether yours honourably,
or with kindest regards, or with a yours
that counteracts the dear as might a Scouser address
a femme with pet, let alone a differentiation
of ms. and mrs. acronyms...
it is beyond my consolidation into what is
nonetheless, a medium of acquisition.
as is the already understood:
sprechen schön luciferian? oder güt Polnisch?
yoyo or carcass of parabola... eins: umlaut
über ist omega zu...
i digress, and without due consequence...
or to provide the sigma:
i am wondering if this might interest you,
should a rekindling of an avidness to publish be bound to
such tongued leveraging a blank space...
i can understand that such writing can only
sprout or be agreeable within a niche market...
but as a mere suggestion
and as a lack of a gamble i am wondering whether you'd
consider the possibility to further my endeavour...
and unlike a beggar, i am not imploring
a chance to further it regardless of
success at it being furthered... for i am blindfolded
and galvanised by the concept expressed by Zatoichi;
i cannot add any more persuasions that might make
my arguments any more convincing than they already
are, most convincing as best: to be discarded.
but with due concern for the state of things,
i send you a copy of my published work to express
what's but a snippet of the magnum opus...
if but to revel in the snapshot of what could be
a career move worthy of an autobiography...
given my complete ineptitude in the publishing
economy, and self-publicising ergonomics...
but as ever: for want of experience, there's an equal
want for ineptitude.
of what can be kindly regarded,
upon a maiden voyage of exchanges
to the letter and the date, as a worthy introduction
with the sole hope of a dialogue;
and so with due sincerity i leave my name
to be a testimony toward future testaments
of awaiting an equilibrium of assets;
Matthew Conrad.
