Spammers are getting weird...

The following was in my inbox advertising Canadian pheromones. I guess maple syrup just ain't as effective as it used to be...

—Now that you notice it—have just moved past
No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,
The pain of being born into matter.
That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
Over the chilly dale.
Reshaping magnified, each risen flake
Alberti, Brunelleschi, Sangallo,
Is the moon to grow
What I have in my hands, these flowers, these shadows,
Set on that tomb in the eternal night;
The weight of being born into exile is lifted.
Is the moon to grow
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
His sightless eyes horribly watch the air;
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
Onto my frozen fingers.
That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
What I have in my hands, these flowers, these shadows.