This first series of poems were appended to the ends of emails we received. While at first it seemed like these pieces should have been nothing more than random fluff, a deeper reading reveals just how poignant they are. I’m a little embarrassed to say this, but they ring with the sounds of Frost, Whitman, and Dickinson.

Of a far barn, just where the road curves sharply

And I would like will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus.

VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush

Snow haze gleams like sand.

And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring

They move against, or through, or by, or toward.

To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking

Only a whiter absence to my mind,

The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,

snowdrops and crocuses might be fooled

and preening, dancing on the basepaths

These poems were sent in by Romonda Dane and Jone Kennie, though we have the sneaking suspicion that both names are simple pseudonyms for one anonymous author. While it seems from the emails that our poet may moonlight as a Viagra-selling pharmacist, this mysterious Romonda clearly has a knack for poetry that she’s just starting to set free.

The next set of emails offered us lists of article ideas, some political and philosophical, others about art and writing, and the rest simply commentary on society. From the witty and whimsical to the poignant and profound, these topics set the foundation for a new batch of fresh First Call articles.

A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read.

Eschew the monumental. Shun the Epic.

All the guys who can paint great big pictures can paint great small ones. 

Tolerance implies no lack of commitment to one’s own beliefs. Rather it condemns the oppression or persecution of others.

Making capitalism out of socialism is like making eggs out of an omelet.

You cannot step twice into the same river, for other waters are continually flowing on.

However far your travels take you, you will never find the girl who smiles out at you from the travel brochure.

It is easy to rule over the good.

Some books leave us free and some books make us free.

To find a friend one must close one eye -- to keep him, two.

Just because nobody complains doesn’t mean all parachutes are perfect.

Some of these may sound awfully similar to famous quotes and adages, but that doesn’t take away from their usefulness or meaning. I still find it amazing that one person could have this many wide-ranging and non-contiguous ideas, but that only indicates their true talent as writers.

This last piece we received was a submission for First Call Dispatch, our abroad column, from a young man, AHMED DIKKO, in Cote d’ Ivoire. He described the trouble his country has recently seen and how we in America can help him.

I have a substantial capital I honourably Inherited from my late father late Chief  IBRAHIM DIKKO who was minister of Interior and deal in Cocao and coffee platation and share from family Gold, diamond Minining site. The Epmigo rebels killed Him recently in political crisis in our country that have resulted to war since this past two years.

I intend to invest this fund in profitable areas in your country into a very lucratives business venture of which you are to advise and execute the said venture over there for the mutual benefits of both of us.

Now I know what many of you are probably thinking. You probably think that none of these pieces really reflect a talent in writing. But before you judge consider these two excerpts.

Kitaentera amber masontony Tyloilary baileyines,
sastreione Inadecuado, promocin anunciar trabajos curtisjana, inajane.
Kitaentera amber masontonya helferuma kaprisky.

GADJI BERI BIMBA CLANDRIDI
LAULI LONNI CADORI GADJAM
A BIM BERI GLASSALA GLANDRIDE
E GLASSALA TUFFM I ZIMBRA

The first? An original submission to First Call from this new pool of emailing writers. The second? “I Zimbra” by the Talking Heads. How could you possibly still assert that the first is worthless writing while the second piece earned millions of dollars? Maybe you just have no respect for abstract sound poetry, or maybe you think that we’ve been duped in some way. But nonetheless, we stand firm. If it works for David Byrne, why shouldn’t we accept these writers into the fold?