In the (?) late 80s The Lady had a piece by Edmund Harwood on 'Word Processors', which included the irritating 'green firefly' of the cursor (still with us) and concluded:
To electronic poets I say this:
Your daisywheel may print a perfect text,
but my old portable with all its faults
does let me think, unblinked-at and unvexed.
Daisywheels? In the museum along with golfballs along with manual portables?
Interesting topic, Greg. Wonder if there were any typewriter poems?
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