Funny thing about poetry. I always think I like it, but when push comes to shove, I often don’t. Which, I suppose, is why I continue to search — raking through mountainous piles of maudlin woeismeism, while retching at the stench of overly precious prose that ferments in pools of rancid cliché.
Now and then, a single line or turn-of-phrase will bubble and rise above the surface — a tiny perfect jewel, which floats over the dreck in a fleeting moment of glory before it bursts and tumbles back into the quagmire of the lesser lines that follow it.
Maybe, to quote a Kristin Hersch lyric from 1986, “I only love pieces of things that I hate.”
I have the most success with poetry that is either sublimely ridiculous or mind-shatteringly abstract. Which probably makes sense, given my own personal tendencies toward life in general.
So it was with this mindset that, a couple years ago, I stumbled upon what might ultimately be my favourite poet of all time: My cellular phone service.
I have long subscribed to “visual voice mail,” which means my cellular service transcribes incoming voice messages and displays the text on my phone. It’s quite handy, since I don’t need to dial in and listen to all the junk messages, and it works well — provided the caller speaks English. But here in my city of Vancouver, over one-quarter of the population hails from China — with the neighbouring cities of Burnaby and Richmond sporting Chinese populations of one-third and one-half, respectively.
So, victim of voluminous spam calls that I am, this means around a third of spam messages are voiced in either Cantonese or Mandarin. Because Visual Voice Mail is not a translation service, but a transcription service, it assumes the language it hears is English and makes a most gallant attempt to decipher what it hears. The result? Some of the best abstract poetry I’ve ever read.
This became a random source of fleeting delight, and at some point I decided to start saving the transcriptions. Sadly, it wasn’t long before the phone company “fixed” the bug, robbing me of yet another of life’s simple joys. A couple days ago, while combing through an old visual voice mail log, I reconnected with a few of these poems — several of which I’ve opted to share. Like any editor, I did have to add punctuation, but other than that, it’s ALL the work of my cellular service.
If only all poetry was this good.
My son, you have an assigned letter
She had, too, potential
Quickly, and done with who she cheating on, son.
Teaching me initial since she called you 'fool'.
Do you try to answer your dry food?
CRTC told me.
"Teach me in the show house,” she called.
“Can you, fool?”
“Do you catch?”
You try, and when?
So we can change you quickly
and done late, catching, you answer.
“You can totally do!”
Too intentional, you quickly and then... catching on.
We eat quickly
and catching hands
You and Cody, do we intentional?
You, quickly, and done with catching on.
She, including how does she see?
How much she jump out!
She, changing quiet
And she, truly inventing and joining her.
Because she said she called Jen
to fool you and touch shit.
Yeah, you do fool.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
14. yeah.
Why? So she called jumping your food?
You, and you, and Tashi.
Teaching me kind of quite the pipe.
I wouldn’t change.
Highway ink too went back.
Your food and waiting.
For you, I’m back here waiting for.
You mean she teaching you?
And told you to lead to trashing something human?
I eat too, to mention art.
Yo, honey!
You need a deal.
Why she only tongue jump,
Panting, but shoot you?
Yelling! Shouting in your fool,
and you doing hunting on earth.
Catching and back.
Super jungle you quickly.
I’m done chatting you.
Answer!
You told me you told super jungle.
You! Quickly!
And then super jungle you quickly.
And down, late charging,
You answer...
© 2026 grEGORy simpson
ABOUT THE PHOTOS :
Six Lines Into The Sonnet : Ricoh GR III
My Life on the Astral Plane : Ricoh GR IV Monochrome
Concrete Poem : Olympus Pen-F fronted with a 30mm f/3.5 Macro
Memories of Jimbocho : OM Systems OM-3 fronted with an Olympus 12mm f/2 lens
Absurdist Poetry : Olympus Pen FT fronted with a 38mm f/2.8 pancake lens and shot on HP5+ at ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal 1:50
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