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[constantine]

hi. i'm mister poet. ask me anything. advice on poetry, love, other stuff - i don't care what it is. even sex - especially sex, but not exclusively sex - unless that is truly what you want to do. in which case, by all means - reveal yourself to public scrutiny. i certainly won't stop you.

[BardmasterUB05]

is a bog some type of haggis?

[constantine]

in the scottish industrial haggis packing plant on the outskirts of glasgow, there are, indeed, haggis bogs - pools of haggis waste and haggis by-products held in a clay-lined reservoir. an unusual query, but not outside of my realm of experience.

[BardmasterUB05]

quite aged I'm sure, indeed

[constantine]

a little gamey - to be sure.

[BardmasterUB05]

but it can be washed down with Rot Gut, you suppose?

[constantine]

anything can be washed down with rot gut - even rot gut. it's an immutable law of the beverage kingdom.

[WIREMAN]

mr poet.....what is the future of cyber space poetry?

[constantine]

next time say  "dear mr. poet." but since this is your first time and due to the fact that i've given quite a bit of time to this subject, i will attempt to answer your query to the best of my ability. telepathy will render cyber space poetry (as you quaintly and prosaically refer!) a moot point. in fact, by the year 2075, poetry as we know it will cease to exist. it will be replaced by knowing smiles and articulated gestures.

[BardmasterUB05]

dear Mr. Poet,
you have projected, 2075, as the Second Coming of the haggis invasion, a  celebratory skirt affair with entrails included, to replace this lowly metered, villanellski morld, of die-hard forms, and cumbersome rewrites in composition books, (a few think they're writing to god), but at what point will septic tanks clog all those unfit bogs, and wash all the tiresome chapbooks away? parting the way for the more industrious e-chap? my friend, Buk, in poetry heaven, needs your concise response, and, Cliff Notes, since the allowable space in a holding cell is quite limited, with no affordable room to smear blood, or, to bitch over retirement. i also heard from my own ears once a scottish lad say it's just too expensive to put out for a chapbook, with little accrued interest to buy a bottle of Grecian Formula. a few do make good bookends though. send a lager, too. you're welcome

[constantine]

thank you for using the appropriate form and mode of respect. sounds like a job for roto rooter or janitor in a closet. the clay-lined tanks of the haggis bog have existed since roman times and even survived the nazi blitz. nothing short of a nuclear strike or the destructive totality of assyrian warfare could ever rid the world of this intestinal imposition.

[WIREMAN]

dear mr. poet......haggis and regress could they be relatives of the ill fated egret?

[constantine]

no, they are not related. the egret's nearest relative was the ill-fated regret - a cheap knock off of the more successful egret.

[WIREMAN]

mr. poet...o excuse me, dear mr. poet...is it true that the  's are taking over cyber space w/a big eared smiley @ the head of the mob....

[constantine]

boss smiley has been running the smiley corral for around twenty years now and has tightened the lariat on legitimate, heartfelt emotional displays. it's a shortcut for those to lazy too emote for themselves, but boss smiley had that figured from the jump. he's got more brains in his 1/4 in. diameter cranium than angus has in his haggis.