My brother in law got me to download a wonderful phone app that takes dictation, thereby saving lots of typing. Early the other morning I read a sonnet to it, and got results that would thrill the heart of any post-human poet. I read the same sonnet again, articulating as clearly as I could, though softly, so as not to wake the household. Here’s a conflation of the two results, with some punctuation by me, plus rollovers to remind you of the original if you want:
Shall I come baby to a summer’s day,
though I’m more lovely, and tempo
wins to shake the valentine’s day
and summer’s movie’s at all too short a date?
Sometime too hot here and show hello
is off. This is God to confession of everything.
Compare some time playing iTunes.
A chance … Tension course
and the guy isn’t till summer, shall not say
on this position of that fear. The boasts
with your shopping bag and wondrous thing
someone interesting to share with you,
so I was thinking peas, or eyes can see
too long lunch time at Christ a fee.
Me fail? I fly! 