I am not sleeping enough to write thoughtfully about any of the things I would like to, good or bad. I just backed a Kickstarter from the Paleontological Research Institution because I think a stuffed plush Dunkleosteus is one of the nicest birthday presents I could give myself. The stack of library books beside my bed now contains a copy of Elizabeth Goudge's Green Dolphin Street (1944) and a matching DVD of the 1947 film is waiting on my desk because I have decided to do this thing to myself. It's true they aren't good, but I'm not actually sure these examples of AI-written poetry are Vogon-level bad; I've seen worse from teenagers who just discovered e.e. cummings.
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- 1: The ghosts of them surround me
- 2: I specialize in opera myself
- 3: Can't I take my own binoculars out?
- 4: And those who can remember when the night sky was a tapestry
- 5: Plates will shift and the earth will groan
- 6: Look into that smoldering building's bombed-out fog until it finally lifts
- 7: Probably not going to leave the slightest trace in the wake when it's my turn
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