20th-​​century poetry was for sure automated

Reminded of what I saw the other day in my email inbox, when I read this note on spam tech­niques.

Here’s the poem the magic poet com­put­ers have sent me:

Your future, night-​​prowling.
Your future, pale-​​complexioned.
Your future, paper hor­net.
Your future, paper-​​waxing.

What’s your poem?

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