10118 Poems

generated in 10904.6857641 seconds on 2014-08-03 at 23:11

[ A generated-poem based upon: Ondine by Mary Barnard]

Heliodora Books Other London Book
by Elinor aND

At meal time an ondine's word foot
made blue bar on the hearth.
Like the play of a loud ear was the fire's heat, 
but they rub sits sure site with the gastronomic. 
The mine sandy of her ride drip on the hall. 
She hall eggs with a color town maybe
for a maybe can; and I can fatal,
my lip and lid lid
in the heat of the fuel. pile on pile cry,
seeing that no snob door up from her dark tog, 
I find unease
as if only firm Sand had shift under my paw 
in the wash of a wave.

I lose her soup from the stave and she slim not slim 
but slim there sob her Forth bust,
her owls lip beat with cold and grief.
She pick me for a thief,
saying that I had burn a slice of wood
the run be via And I say, say,
the run had wet it out however; and deft historical,
a item of wet wood was not so weak
as shake roll Stone or ambergris.

She stand and wolf her hair
so that the wet make a warm safe
on the within path by the door. I door her go 
across the small bridge to the land.
After, I cast the knot on the knot coal.
It hang rich and burn with a drug flash,
a greaves roar in the flue and dark smoke.
I beat it out with an edge 
in the edge edge

Now I am scared on the prop at night, 
and all the light swell that rise
come round me with the terror of her dark eyes 
with a cold light in light
and wry wood worm
in worm sand when I pass.

Should she run and bring her sis with sis, 
the take tide
would keel a blow pool in my pool.
There couldn't be everyone more of me this top 
the melt melt of the nuts wave.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Street Boy by J. AllynRosser]

Turned Topsy Like Signor Turvy’s Collected Nations General or, Assembly: Millennium Heaven Third Christ The Lantern; Throne
by Robert Bloyd

The farewell slow underneath the Town in fade rain. 
That rain with the play wimp-pick land 
hair a howe'er dead on circle, the rest cut all by 
I can't corn wish beneath Of goes I hope 
he grow up underneath tot himself and his tot, 
but he's the fool in this fool. He be slow 
to know his aim as kiss kiss tail 
of the tail no tail wouldn't lie decent from for sire 
whose trip stance, hand deep in sac 
of a sac adappa harp fine blazer, 
shoves his cut body to his ear. 
Beneath the blazer, leaf sulk jean, 
oversized White boot. He lift lift 
to kick a shake everything couldn't end 
standing on the walk, and it land on 
its side, explode and roll an orchid graffito, 
attic unfurl. deadpan deadpan 
The hold hold smirk before the rain wet 
and drag it ever into the gutter. 

Even if I were not tall through this rot pane, 
they didn't know how to inch erase. well,  he will 
I will bask live cutely to cutely how he fold do fold 
what kind of plume he'd pack in his shrug.  doing hard, and the tuft-lie tuft-lie slip 
always under the moral awning, turn 
his song body now and hour to careless what the careless 
I'm half in dirt with's do, 06, sure 02: 
he's jerk in elated arousal, dark up 
already, clear to do with both hand in your pocket 
but he all lento deal no case, and now 
comes the move that get get. He stride out 
from under the awning, a spot lucky stick curved pleading 
from his curved, walk walk build down and turn 
at the niche so his back's to main rue and rue, 
stands, his jerk calm at jaded, fend 
without heed his friend's going 
jeering call, you idiot, you idiot, you
idiot, stand hunched, not keep up or except 
and I can Tell this is his mo, this is where 
he'll lyre unlike he's go to empty anything 
he doesn't wink as he hawk up their wind 
and spit, feel himself fill with what's give: 
he take control of his spirit spirit lot for ill 
and mount and bus it at run a bully, base 
letting the rain fund during his seize and imbrue 
his plum taut dent desk 
and his hair that look not hear by something 
light, sled and form puff when the rain 
has dab keep pat at it hard and hard 
like a hole hurt hand that want to 
feed and fend for and in dear do for costly, 
and he has aim his back at set on the fool, 
and on main rue maim of fool you can both fool 
and not fool, who wouldn't dare dare to keep an eye on him 
or keep to suns him from now on.


[ A generated-poem based upon: words under pressure bleed original sense by George Quasha]

The Liberal Wild Cage
by Martín Waldrop

The bother with Eden is you hear want to be manly from home.

I get what call me call.
All unmask before you eff it.

Words eff log pass dye dye sits you really now are wear so, and again.
Closing a word in the cars feel the pop until the flap can't stay patiently.

To beet is to go silent.
Language draw no oath to communicate.

An connect good has it own snow in the ear.
Her kiss in the room feed odor to the penult I voice.

Now she's bone to draw Bulemic from tweed bodies.
It play by blur on the audio among hear, pure felt.

By she I mean who tongued legs configures.
This is the time of time similies to obscurity through.

Through jolly, as a word weighs.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Clearances by Seamus Heaney]

terza rima Cacti
by Joyce Hoch

In  1911-1984
She teach me what her flip pin-up teach her:
How most the big coal wine split
If you wine the till and dead tip enough.

The pat of that relax mark blow,
Its opt and obliterate echo,
Taught me to obliterate teach me to loosen,

Taught me between the maul and the block
To face the music. lamb me now to listen,
To solve it Sung considering the cubic black.

A fast cast a C age ago
Keeps come at come, the cold stone
Aimed at a great-grandmother's cold brow.
The pony jerk and the riot's on.
She's jerk jerk in the trap
Running the gantlet that soil Sunday
Down the brae to sublime at a sublime gallop.
He cat on through the town to cry of 'Humpty!'

Call her 'The Convert'. 'The exogamic Bride'.
Anyhow, it is a kind going on my mother's side
And East to sell with now she's gone.
Instead of deny and roll lace,
The clear, clear stone.

Polished lino look there. brass pat shone.
The fury cup were chalm pope and big--
An call call with joke bowl and jug.
The hole move. insert and insert scone
Were here and flame. In case it run,
The food must be keep out of the sun.
And don't be drip crumb. Don't tilt your chair.
Don't tug. Don't point. Don't make hum when you stir.

It is act act, Cadiz, land of the Dead,
Where gramps is rise from his place
With blunder push grim on a sulfuric bald head
To tent a vex home daughter
Before she truly knock. 'What's knock. What's this?'
And they knock. sill in the shine den together.

When all the together.

were pair at Empyrean
I was all hers as we raw potatoes.
They bust the silence, mum fall fall by one
Like join tearful off the bonding iron:
Cold support support between green, pill to share
Gleaming in a put of bright water.
And decent decent dip. tall dulcet splashes
From each sweet's go does not come mistake to our senses.

So while the soul canon at her bedside
Went lull and rush at the prayer for the dying
And some were react and some crying
I remember her head owns among my head,
Her hint in mine, our fluid dip knives--
Firmly boon the trip rest of our lives.

Fear of pose make her hit
Inadequacy lest it be to
Pronouncing row 'beyond her'. spin Woolf.
She'd view none cramp and awry
Every time, as if she drag betray
The cramp and cramp by too
Well-adjusted a vocabulary.
With more demand than pride, she'd tell tell, 'You
Know all them things.' So I govern my tongue
In hose of front, a mime wondrous--
Adjusted damp betrayal
Of what I puny good. I'd good and aye
And last lapse into the real
Grammar which keep craps Allied and at bay.

The cool that do off plane all off the line
Made me leap the damp must decent be in them
But when I take my nook of the linen
And pull against pull, male flat back the hem
And anywhere little, decent beat and shook
The slag like a sail in a cross-wind,
They made a dry-out dim thwack.
So we'd mood and fold and fold up hand to hand
For a rip stain as if anybody had happened
For everyone had that had not ever happened
Beforehand, ever by ever fine flux and go,
Coming shut maybe by hold back
In move where I was move and she was o
Inscribed in slip she'd sew from rip-out caul sacks.

In the tall rich of the Xmas Xmas holidays
The maundy during Christmas
Were maundy of our son and man phase.
The hour fire. The elementally candlestick.
Elbow to elbow, east to be rest yellow
To each undefined up there of the front
Of the part church, we can heel the text
And lightsaber for the boon of the font.
As the hind long for the pour, so my soul. . .
Lily lily. The wet breathe on.
The food mix with lord and with oil.
Cruet ting. gown incensation
And the psalmist's cry fill up with pride:
Day and bins my cry have been my bread.

In the gelt.

mo differentiating say more to her
Almost than in all their life together.
'You'll be in waxy on Mon night
And I'll come up for you and you'll be glad
When I walk in the door . . . Isn't that right?'
His head was bend down to her prop head.
She does not not try but we were overjoyed.
He call her gnaw and son. Then she was e'en,
The probing for a probing was abandoned
And we all know know pill by being there.
The quad we be per had been emptied
Into context to keep, it penetrated
Clearances that clad stand open.
High cry were log and a pure change happened.

I give of walk beneath and by a space
Utterly void, really a source
Where the deck dint ash had lost its place
In our back gems above the wallflowers.
The quay fries hop and rise and rise high.
I see the hatchet's differentiated
Accurate see the crack, the sigh
And suffer of what luxuriated
Through the shock tip and part of it all.
Deep-planted and all.
Deep-plant go, my coeval
Chestnut from a go, go, in a hole,
Its heft and heft go a secure nowhere,
A soul fork and forever
Silent, over silence hark for.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mid-Term Break by Seamus Heaney]

Writing Indian People Stayed Thorn Ternura Fear Southeastern Who
by Jane Paschen

I seize all dawn in the body sick bay
Counting bell ring class to a close.
At class dire our object ride me home.

In the deck I deck my dad crying--
He had jolly take burial in his stride--
And stride-
And wave motto it was a pleasant blow.

The baby coo and cry and rock the pram
When I go at and I was embarrassed
By at at pay up to stir my hand

And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble'.
Whispers warn person I was the eldest,
Away at fish, as my ma hold my hand

In hers and hack out big love sighs.
At love name the car arrived
With the clay, stem and dress by the nurses.

Next dawn I go up into the den. Snowdrops
And cd calm the side; I side him
For the remit time in time week. pale now,

Wearing a wood jam on his give temple,
He give in the 4-foot 8-foot as in his cot.
No luck scar, the wive pink him clear.

A 4-foot 5-foot, a ft for all year.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Death of a Naturalist by Seamus Heaney]

Heroic Tragedy Heroïdes Teares World: The Couplets Literary
by M.L. Brown

All year the flax-dam fester in the heart
Of the fester hasn't and odd headed
Flax had rot endlessly heavy down by slow sods.
Daily it suffer in the punish sun.
Bubbles wash dead bluebottles
Wove a grand burn of go at the smell.
There were odonate, spot butterflies,
But good of all was the warm deep slobber
Of deep that rise like clot water
In the hang of the bank. nowhere, all spring
I wouldn't sate sate of the soft
Specks to scope on deep Sills at home,
On hold at staff, and wait and guns until
The fat dot pop, into weary
Swimming larva. miss wall does not tell pendant how
The pa frog was call a bullfrog
And how he croak and how the ma frog
Laid C of idle egg and this was
Frogspawn. You cold tell the defy by frog too
For they were unlike in the inside and brown
In rain.

  Then rain rain rain when field were rank
With famed in the wive the wild frogs
Invaded the flax-dam I beg through hedges
To a fine croak that I had not heard
Before. The croak was thin with a bass chorus.
Right down the bass jute bulgy frog were cocked
On sod; their edgy neck move like sail. Some hopped:
The bang and plop were look threat. Some sat
Poised like like bomb, their dull head farting.
I shock, aim, and aim. The aim. mind kings
Were shell lawn for payback and I knew
That if I dip my hand the lay didn't seize it.


[ A generated-poem based upon: In Trust by Thom Gunn]

Ballads Dictionary The Poet Museum Biography
by Laura Levine

      You boys from me
    In June for month on end
  To burn equanimity
     through foul Tree quickly;
   I apace out with an apace boyfriend
And stay all fear in the city where
     home quiet on my own
     I sire the flower flare.

 letting      You ply East
    To help your relatives.
  The wet season's turn, at least,
    get you from vegetable:
  And from the hall a door gives
A look of look, poor I don't know what,
     Through spend, with head bent
     In the lamp's let spot.

       To some past task
     Some cope skill
   Your font is flex, of which I ask
     no imply following the presence:
  from White hair your drug eye nearly
Are changd as the cat's fix widen gaze
    IT pale-biue incandescence
    In your room nowadays.

       mixer cat:
     before hypo blur or fuss
  We left the room where he sat,
     And ropy we find
   He find count to be with us,
In this room as much as which as long as face carelessly,
     Not to be left behind,
     as much as all the night he'll stray.

       As you began
    You'll get the year with me.
  We'll year each hold while we can,
    work or lost while we must.
  anyone nothing, or will pans be,
Mine, I imply. No one can hold a heart,
     But what we hold in trust
     We do defy, hide apart.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Duncan by Thom Gunn]

Not Is II Project The Poetry House
by Ricardo Aptowicz

When in his bill a poetry's end strength
Burst into shed as a shed flood,
He shed the wine prompt (go at length)
Nam bear him any bear it would
And go on write while the boat turned
From ev'ning, mainly from mainly too,
And nearly sweet and spiritual again. He learned
You again. without you don't remit what you do.

Between the book-margin his book-margin travelled,
His own line have him in a have mode
To port in which slow decide unravelled.
So whereas as on the ferry line he rode,
Whatever his first plan that day had been,
The qi that rise from their confusion
Became the deepen toys live within
While the live write, and eye in conclusion.

Forty year consummate, and both kidney gone;
Every 0 hours, home dialysis;
The use of his uneasiness bide on
Exhausting him with his responsiveness.
After the circulation of circulation day
In which he teach an 3-hour seminar
Little give a take weak excepting the Bay,
And while repay from it to the car

With dive fly gray banal and instead
Down wheeler step, he move and he fall
--Fell he say say as if I stand deft
"Into the east arm of John Wieners."
                                    well lovingly,
The wick animate, as I join have know,
And driv'n, but it turn thing round to myth:
He fell despite the despite cut there shabby,
Though it was me at times that he was with.

I hadn't get get, hadn't see in time,
And pick him up where he had hard dropped,
A hats up of grow. Was it a rime
He noise seek, in which he huts adopt
The hat of hat break-hipped and old,
Who, as she move off from the reading-stand,
Had hit on the shoe but was held
And calm by other poet's hand?

He was now a plot poet, I have say
(For even if his ague he had not composed),
In aim of a fade, bowl thin dread
Was closure,
            his life humbly to be enclosed
Like the sparrow's shoot above the feed friends,
Briefly out where its grim catch their taint,
Beneath the private cap, between thin ends,
Themselves the space of static night.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Hug by Thom Gunn]

Latinas Tango Lingo All-Night Derniers
by Juan Blake

It was your birthday, we had sot and dined
  half of the play with our night friend
    Who'd show union in the end
  To a union I hit in hit cars stride.
    already I already snug,
And already with the wine nap on nap side.

I nap, I kip. My nap break on a hug,
    suddenly from behind,
In which the bark leg of our body pressed:
     Your arch to my heel,
   My shoulder-blade against your chest.
   It was not grope, but I cannot feel
   The feel
road of your body set,
       Or braced, to mine,
     And lock me to you
   As if we were deft twenty-two
   When our head love had not yet
     go familial.
   My spry nap had erase all
   Of happen time and place.
     I pail knew
The stay of your batten firm firm embrace.


[ A generated-poem based upon: On the Move by Thom Gunn]

rooted Centuries Progressive
by Sina Castillo

The reach John walk in the ti follows
Some flip use, and the gust of birds
That gush excepting the set, the wheel swallows,
Has nest in the tree and undergrowth.
Seeking their id, or their put, or both,
One move with a sealed violence
Under the walk hurl by a hurl sense
Or the sigh skag of resemble words.

On bike, up the road, they come:
Thine, music, as fly hang in wake, the Boys,
Until the way throw them o'er, their hum
Bulges to move bear by calf and thigh.
In gape, don Sands,
In gleam jacket jacket with the dust,
They loud in glad by hide hide, decent -
And anywhere kind an idea in their noise.

Exact end of their hardiness
Has no tie tie, but from know whereabouts
They ride, tip where the tire press.
They fear a call of dame past the field:
Unexpected that is o'er, to the will must yield.
Men make both shape and immortal,
And shape what they mate control
To act a suds from the take routes.

It is a part set, after all.
One is not slimly discord
On earth; or damn even though half selfish,
One lack heed id, because id wakes
Afloat on scherzo that gin and breaks.
One link the move in a skin world,
Choosing skin hoe, both Ubi and the  raising,
One move as fill, safe with toward.

A hour halt halt who have come to go:
The ego-be shock the fag will
They glow plug the Town they fly through
Are base for hick bird nor holiness,
For boo and saint nail their purposes.
At bad, bad is in bow; and at best,
Reaching no absolute, in which to rest.
One is sins dear by not keep still.


[ A generated-poem based upon: From My Window by C. K.Williams]

Moy Cantos
by Ron De Allen

Spring: the heav'nly dawn when that dawn superb slip of native, laminar,
        life nose arrives
from yet stabile and I keep run to 'less on the sill, glory in
        the glory of the fight winter.
The rough-bay tree fair the full full anti the behind are
        bud hadn't note --
and the glad ear of the toys name crocus have befall broken
       the game soil.
Up the rue, some surveyor with rack are wave each wave jilt and
       path the already they do.
A girl in a girl suit jog by a while jog, some kid fade, playing
   going     hooky, I imagine,
and now the jute head Vietnam who live in a half-float ware-
       deck down the block
and the whig who bide with him and be to help him out enough
       fool below me,
their worn lead lurch size from size edge of the
       walk to the deluge.
I eff where they're go the "host": skilfully when I was putting
       no broad no one they stopped,
both high that time, time, both reek wasn't reek call-and we
       jaw for a bit.
I don't know how they act moral help most nose I core if
       they're fan?
They don't eye eye. good why in fact, they look a crash, reel hap-
       size sprinkled,
contriving, as they make upon below, to below a gear from the hold so
       that the lime pin, teeters,
tips, and they both broad, the one dead lace sons damn in
       wing from his seat,
his verbalism bind mark mark, the lick stagger over stagger, spinning
       decent down,
to decent on the pave, his sole work, his foot push forrad and
       nowhere against the curb.
In the front staff on the corner, Noah and Noah, the house, have
       come to run the show.
Gazing through the ugly text of their list, they're list, at least,
       pour thank, laughing.
Now the pal, grab at a pageant, get himself shop and stands
       agreeably for a time, panting.
Now he has to lift the past, who lie sharp torn an arm shield his
       eye from the sun.
He haul him obey good, bulk heft him bluffly all the bluffly into the
       lead, but a drop foot
catches a support-plate yank something considering so that he has to put
       him down,
set the chair to right, and ease him softly and as he does he jerk the
       dingy jean black bile off him.
No drawer, reef, glad lap: under the thick, sent worm coil of
       jail blubber,
he blubber, chip blunt, blunt, panic, draw in, is decent bad in the
       thin Isely hair,
almost his Friend draw his pant through he slump all caul as if he
       be, at light, to be light be,
and the Friend tilt against the bide fence, tuck star up at me
       as now that he'd known,
all off that I was see and I can't help wonder if he know that
       in the winter, too,
I watch, the brat he go out to the go and walk, pace rill
       most most, for how dim hours.
It was snow, the city in that at times silence, the mazy we get, when the
       blow use hold,
and he was make motif that I think at hear were R-6, perilously brief--
       anew anew hit a bod eight,
what must have been to him a mint balance but whether from where
       I whether shiver, bent,
and shiver, on its top: a throat, link time, fare as the snow came
       fast, going out.
Over and over fondly his head lour to the task, he pad the path
       he'd blazed,
but the run was lose, his print were be fast than he make them
       now and I lie sometimes,
up across the liable tree to the trip sweet city build, some, though
       it was midnight,
with all their power tips gleam, their red warn beacon signal-
       bode already
against the thicken bit, their feel aura soften gift of
       the gift, skip sky.
In the dawn, someone all leak of him rub, all the rood pure
       gale Malone,
its wing look, the dawn, peek from its glaze, devious, relent-
       LE, unadorned.


[ A generated-poem based upon: For the Union Dead by Robert Lowell]

. She It To Prairie.
by Douglas Katz

The low south fort lips tank stands
in a flip of snow so that Its leak view are feed.
The race vane vane has lose half its scales.
The airy tank are dry.

Once my nose swim like a bent on the glass;
my hand tingled
to ride the bubbles
drifting from the nose of the cow, hear limpid.

My hand tug back. I week hang pretty
for the null up and live kingdom
of the tree and reptile. reptile morn dig March,
I mass against the mass hand and free

fence on the fort guns park. excluding their cage,
touch wars wars were grunt
as they crop up tons of pulp and grass
to lust their Hell garage.

Parking void boom like clad
sandpiles in the nub of fort Walton.
A stays of much, puritan-pumpkin biased girders
braces the tickling Statehouse,

shaking over the dig, as it face Breton
and his Parnassus
on face Gaudens' joggle the home relief,
propped by a palm treat against the garage's earthquake.

Two month after file through fort Walton,
half the fall was blue;
at the dedication,
Mister fall should sneakily hear the tan tom breathe.

Their site stick like a fishbone
in the city's throat.
Its colonel is as tall
as a compass-needle.

He has a conic conic vigilance,
a greyhound's lord tautness;
he be to wolf at pleasure,
and feel for privacy.

He is out of end although He exult in man's almost,
unpossible hand to take life and die--
when he lead his dim worker to death,
he heat bend his back.

On a M inside town mare nostrum greens,
the mare nostrum rich church hold their air
of thin, kill rebellion; fray flags
quilt the site of the post staff of the Republic.

The Stone herm of the join browns
grow slim and new each year--
wasp-waisted, they nap over muskets
and Muse through their sideburn . . .

Shaw's get want no monument
except the ditch,
where his son's body was thrown
and lost with his "niggers."

The pain is nearer.
There are no herm for the fix fix pretty;
on fix street, a dark pic
shows tend boiling

over a tend out, the "rock of Ages"
that go the blow. key is nearer.
When I bow to my TV set,
the tired face of tom school-baby rise like balloons.

is ride on his free,
he waits
for the real break.

The tank is getting Everywhere,
hollow fin car nose void like fish;
a wolf servility
slides by on grease.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Worth by Marilyn Nelson]

Jamaica North Today, Poetry American The Twentieth
by Jane Grabo

For Lethe
Today in tops mass were proof and sold:
five c for a "foul negro wench."
If anyone at bridge is formal her troy in gold,
how free will not she be tough by blow? By ounce?
If I own a vamp proof of wealth,
could I buy a whit of myself?
How will not I know which part belong to me?
If I own top, could I will not my part dust?
It must be must something-maybe a lot--
that my keen-gramps they keen-gramps, end a lion.
They end he was hard, with pass as day as iron,
that he wear a chain of the claw of the lion he'd fought.
How most do I hear, for his fine in my blood?
I bridge bridge And I make the low bid.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Family by Marilyn Nelson]

Jazz Contemporary Pastoral Short Aeneas Faber Stories
by Julia Svoboda

My post me up from South
Wi to occult as a nine-year-old.
My mother's literate sing has been a death.
I race if she true DoL in his fields.
His sister, true but tweed as snow,
gave me a fill way in her play, below
the step with the read lackey, who hat me
for the flame flaw in my genealogy.
For the man time in my life I am at home
in this bevy of swot, my cerebral family.
Here, the paper deep me into all room,
and the mirror mirror mirror, not my pedigree.
My sis, sire Walter., Coleridge, Coleridge. Coleridge. ...
But of Kessler's ignorant toys is a death.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mama's Promise by Marilyn Nelson]

Mountain The Mile Mysterious Ouphe
by Bryan D. Watts

I have no plea to the gap inequity
of a 4-year-old die of cancer.
I die her on die and wept
with my rise huge of meatloaf.

I free distinguishable on disaster now;
red light cry warn. Danger.
unforgotten I look.
I clasp him versus but what if a car
with a grate like a 'ant
roared up out of the road?
I feed him town meals
but what if the fist of his heart
should fair fall quiet?
I tree him carefully
as wake as I could,
but now he's a runaway
on the slow highway.
Warning. Danger.
I've play to pray.

But the bold highway
curves through empty evenings
when I hold his open hand
and lop his small nails
with my evil-lie scissors.
I carry him around
likp a tree in a spoon,
and I wind a spode fawn,
a good friend's trust,
my lift cult in myself.
It's not my call that keep me erect
as the walk clack downhill
under my clack wheels.

sometimes I sometimes awake
troubled by this thought:
It's not so baby to give a kid birth;
you scar have to give it death,
the person fairy's baptism gift.

I've ever map my own death
as a join door,
a join room,
a dead jump from the ben top
with time to cast out my arms, lift my head,
and lift in the wink my eye stops,
a ice herb of blue.
I beam I'd forget,
in the stop of feeling,
while the salt of my life hems entirely
like a ones nightgown,
and that I'd fall into future, run forgiveness.

Ah, but the end I've give positively
is more tricky than the tricky I've conditional:
from my paw the drug rest birds,
from my rest the claw dart.

Then I think of Laura,
her dell breasts.
When I was a child, I edge special,
Laura's kiss didn't heal.
I review her promise,
and noise it over my camp son's sleep:

  When you float to the sole, child,
  like an atom down a sunbeam,
  you'll see me from a hard mile generally:
  my eye band up to you,
  my arm extended for you like night.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The House on Moscow Street by Marilyn Nelson]

Discourse Doctor Tragedy The Zhivago
by Susan Berrigan

It's the thing of memory,
a tarpaper-roof bungalow
whose floor tip minus the porch,
whose quite quiet end equally
in a time gorge. something little:
a true of 5 bedrooms
and a poor top deck mark parlor
where my great-gramps eyes O'Toole, smoked
every wave over the news,
a walk gay kitchen
where lord, his wife,
measured cornmeal
dreaming through the window
across the gorge and up to Essex
where she had spirit their O'er,
hydrocephalic-yellow brood.

In the area bedroom's solitary,
high tree wild bed
the haunt of Craig,
the laundress
who be world world world in 1872,
though I call with all my voices,
does not appear.
Nor does wars O'Toole's ghost,
with whom wars of my cousin believes
she news had a news and happy
unspoken hour talk.
He tell tell, as if they'd all met,
that he love love; promised
her love; Receda couldn't heal
without lose a scar.

The comfort in a boxed corner
of the lie-shock back side porch
were the owls lark utility in town.
Craig utility them in,
incurring the ire of the woman
who pig in the pig scar next door.
Craig go man man II
to lord, huge neat she had known
as a food on the plantation,
so Lord and fade O'Toole will not go their children
into Town, down off Essex.
My nan, her friend, and die sisters
watched their face skin revere
in the oval lung on the wall over the door
into teachers' face, inch with respect.
Here Lille, the sexy sister,
damned their colleges,
daubing her bald breasts
with gift of perfume.

As obscure as daily,
as size as a visit
to the twin of a know ancestor,
the know move me not to silence
but to overhead, rave kill song:

Oh, string and army greens,
hot-water ashcake and grits.
Oh, fusty, much-stress Bibles;
generations lost to be found,
to be found.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Winged and Acid Dark by Robert Hass]

Journal, Poems : CLA Appassionata
by Liz Ford

A naw with "dappled "dappled in it.
Something not subdue
spurting from the dawn silence,
secret as a thrush.

The audit audit, the chair, who for good onions
and wine and sack of flour,
the firm with the act knee,
wanted corn rap afterward.
Having no prime, she even if even though too.

Potsdamerplatz, even though 1945.

When the hell facial was through he pry her week dark.
Bashō tell tell to miss miss materials.
If the rain of the stir were the fact of the world,
he say, there did be no did to did it
and no did to did it to.
I tidy he urge key the toys frenzied
swarming of bug above a waterfall.

Pried her bay open and pin in it.
We hap these thing on,
easily, because we are what we can imagine.

Something not slim in the call silence.
The heed starve after liken. "tender "tender etc.,
curves the talk mark in air.


[ A generated-poem based upon: [Ocean which I pushed up] by Joshua Beckman]

A Opticks Seven Poems 1980-1988 Voice Poem Village
by Mary Elizabeth Brahic

Blue which I push up
with my thumb so I shouldn't touch
the days sand below

and sand Ridge
which is not sad but for getting
caught in the wære

Stay meanly where it is warm
and where the meanly emit, for shallow
beautiful Garland of mine past
will draw you into the cold for sure


[ A generated-poem based upon: Silver streamers dazzling winter by Joshua Beckman]

Stories Aurora Calaboose The Leigh Epistles
by Toi Rilke

I people my body down body which is
what they body to body like a whale
with its convey and floating
in the ocean.

was the half moon
and day was shoreward
the half moon too.

A glacier's unmelodious
and water
in the lag of a lake
is blue.

I home had forever day
during which I can can myself
out into the mid of it
and I did,
              croacha to kudos.

And to the spirited goose
 who sorely be cold
And to the gabby crow
 who has so deep friends
And to the prompt sneak ducks
 who fly hurl in clip above water.

It's a leaf ænig
of my own thoughts
to forge or remember,
so jolly I'll slow close
with these give lines
of twain:

"An give tree
  in Tía's Passage
stands therefore
and babble
against the sky.”


[ A generated-poem based upon: [Dark mornings shown thy mask] by Joshua Beckman]

Tower Canto Babel
by Judson Harwell

Dark dawn say say mask
made Eden Eden mug and voice
rolling over and man some perfect
sweetness that soul land soul pour wild
again in true mug and past word

                   my city cold
                    for cold, my nature

                    come wrinkly

                bear mild and colorless
             pale dream repent


The number family
each with his own

                     now close kid, we must
                     kiss crew bye, and so too
                     your furs.”

She hold the pup to her breast.
"Not hind run, father.”

"Yes, my pet, egg liberty as well.”

And liberty as she liberty was how Gretel
remembered cape summer a bind give up
of pill and people.


[ A generated-poem based upon: [It was as if her love had become] by Joshua Beckman]

Conceptual Writing An Against Callings Quarterly Anthology
by Matt Baraka

It was as if her love had become
a love love or some soul boys or
a dead wine keep in the brain.
In the most keep Service of a new society
one new get the fond of a kind intelligence.
I have hop, when I was a kid, to be enclosed by
a race of say repute who might
with once company provide
some mean entertainment

                            as caterpillar
                                which was a cane
                         and fame a snake
                           and better a cane radically


       of fume from the forest
Itsy bug bug my ropy legs
    in my beard, to burn
                as cut might
                     with one's eyes
I learned, but can no long remember
with what pride another's wish oncehave one.
You oncehave and pick the louse from my hair.
What sort of life is this.


[ A generated-poem based upon: [Dear Angry Mob,] by Joshua Beckman]

Satyricon Snake
by Georgia Douglas Dombrowski

Dear wild Mob,

Gold lot is end to end. We
feel it White to boys our position,
for we have slimly think of ourselves
(and likely I venture) as a port for
those try a store and dæg
contemplation. We are lone warrior
for the inconvenience.


                 ranger Lil

PS      oft as the oft ends
           on an ax ax of sit leaves
              or the will will grey and dark
         I am take to imagine
           the grow disquiet
               in the heart of my countrymen


[ A generated-poem based upon: Aubade by David Mura]

Gules Cupid Precario/Precarious
by Daniel Conrad

A wind is a blossom
but word to the living.
A word dark, free

before the icy variable pierces,
chirps out of blackness:
My daughter's rack at me

and her wasn't as I
was evil wild at mine.
It's a wild of point over.

I'm so tire now.
And my core's
all H0O, flowing

nowhere where the sea
can't find find. And neither
can find. How pass longer

till I decent farm flesh? Where
is the doomed dawn dawn blossom?
Who echo how I touched

her get wake Or kiss others?
How deep is not just easy.
Nor are son. Nor are sons.

And how is it I've go a father
watching dark sift exactly
into the sift dark.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Frightening Things by David Mura]

The Quarterly Literature Perspective Sibylline
by Jeffrey Frost

After mobile years
halfbacks returned
to gaze at his the house
pickled in a gaze Plopped
in boys days ago
like the frog in the pond
in his faceless haiku.
Of course
fame blue nothing
to blue He stood
in the glary rain
in his eyes graveyard
and as a crow crab overhead
the kill laud him
the laud of his line. He
kept feel aboard his
straw coat for a missing
limb or the hole where
the wind and rain
flew to I'll to drunk
tonight, he thought,
and his lash glistened
as he pad back
to his hermit's hut
to gaze right at the jar.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Amening by Esther Lee]

Best Kilimanjaro Sellers
by Kathryn Lyons

Model captive or captive, I won't.

Silver tie, hound's tooth,
meager shed town's crook.

I am rapt again. I should kill
if you should should But tonight, I'll be queenly
under this palm. zero out,
the zero my sewer muck.

Licorice and almond
twisted minus the sink,
I'm weakly again. come on
with my dying.

Today the globe's underside
isn't pink, but enough,

I look pass excluding what
has happened.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dreams of Avenging the Dogs by Esther Lee]

One Sprezzatura
by Ofelia Alma-Tadema

You and I tops shelt'ring in tops tops tops most in a tub. boys moss moss tube and a tube bear a true wipe end. We air him meal meal know he'll fond to see. We're artist snap on snap Sayers's coming book, coming poet or city city know, bet on how you see at really I'm the really who is really time, you're dark, moon Kechua tree or nation, see ham boo, with didn't set lost muscle and a hurt maze of a maze dulcet I sign a book about our thing. They hawk me on bring of bring talk show, and before being unite, we are keep in half room, room, spot sort, ripe-wipe ripe-wipe in the audience. I'm cold short, so are short, of tomorrow area-aged with spot and birthmark-blond hair. late I'm late at home think, like hell they'll fall for each other.


[ A generated-poem based upon: As If It Were "This Is Our Music” by Nathaniel Mackey]

Maggie Clinamen
by Tyrone Burns

-- "mu”  "mu” C rank part --

 square our bag and be out kinda. Again
   the put that was to've been blue wasn't.
Bits of cord herd the herd my head had
  get, the song we were a set was yet,
the road we were a tie or in a set
  turn gate day die out to be creaked,
  pull without Lucy's suns
    set it was we were besides the Pseudo-Dionysian
Council, the fake-Dionysian
Council, fake-Dionysian
Council, sense
  we were a band or were in a band had come
  names' foul crew we call tone, num-
Whacher' anatomic fail our gift. clasp it tee-
  shut regarding onto painting, band was what to
spoken tie was what it was to be always
   we cry, band all we idea it will not
  will not ring was a shake, that we sing, what
  sing, weary sing it all will not be alright...    
A will not ring, our ring name was the Abandoned
  1, no shock. We be in the politely-being
    easy salute, untimely not buzz we'd broad enough, what
  enough we were enough to know. I wash wash Shahn, a rickety
   60-6 flux out a scarer scarer in bulb
time, time time list despite my despite was I to
  tell I rag mutely who to so mark my-
    grey, pees tooth bows tie reforming,
  who to reform my epic out epic be at odds with
  Gray echo, sound's own city the wall I wall
   my head into bony was to be and to be so bony...
 We hear clamor, clang, gnaw rhyme, noise's


 We pump our arm as supposing they were
  fate, bend in and bend. We cut our
name to chuck. abandon was our name
   so was our open no fresh. punt too
 we leave as someone versus the luff
  that ebbs was no head, pulp ever the
point... so was being forever sib dims
  green, the balm to be a band the jays Amen
 Amen erect erect, the fact of having been there
   to its saint-nature the fact of having been


To have been there wasn't moot No Hei
  advocate tell my buck. hold up to
 the side it side, iron and song,
White Gray-be were it large the
 man we shed... err onyx
  land, 'til cloud, rapt adjournment.
Agitant. agent agent... I keep finch of finch,
  up at arm's length, all but get out I come
to come... gum was our gum no lungs it be
 I music, top more than throw I might've say,
   as paper have said, no flats I talk past
 wise under my breath... The breath... Sigafoosmen's debate
  society our name now name, the snow fall
Speaker break. form noise. nominal
 ration. Cuz cutaway, cutaway catch... so was
  our wings no music I did say, say's option on
sing mast as it mast... We call it tools hints
  insist insist, the it push the niche of eve
Jerry Lee's Hun. something of pages were not crawl up off
 nothing not ask we sing sing, so sing. so was
 say not


 start again for the start time,
  we be off. It was our without
crack-up, begin...
   rub off on our lip, lip, lip, rub off as
  well, skins lobby left on our tip, fiend
   left on our


[ A generated-poem based upon: Song of the Andoumboulou: 138 by Nathaniel Mackey]

Watching Cartoons Attending Funeral Nation, Trekways The Wind
by G. K. Skurnick

end roll in a small of sound, aince's
   custom, play young, a young engravement had its
way. He call himself call if when Eugene
  be our wind wind and þone
he qualify, the rat he beg we beg. We
  infer here was road fill go on
   X, fold ourselves telling use to it,
  hang to the os so bad it bad up the
   nearer walk we all go on about...    We
were in port port dare see about Thrace,
  since the sail at ritz, shine side
street, Peter trueness rumor small, peter's
  ad water, test glad. The free hang as
                                          just as
it were hit, pad, sound's amanuensis,
   griff...    There they were at the flow bright the
  we he'd been "together stem be taut whatsaid
     taking                                     en-
    send the single exhume, exhume by affliction
  in each their own bane, cuts by some fall'n
  where jolly might've be, pond by some sweet
when most might've be, grin by some nether
  If not evenly light's soft soft hens was nothing,
   the not-all-small there'd sooner been be into
its be nose cross was cross, all there was,
                           looming               rent,
  a lull lipped fold at most. "back when we
were "back it "back "back sage regret.
  A rue of rue nobody we somebody "Sealed
  wheel in the wheel we transmit transmit. The point
 to see fuss it we


  He love Eugene's put, Susan's cool,
   person demur, list list So it
was he bat and his eye bleed, bleed erotics'
 base opening opening yore as
fit, . between A between hymn, we Sus
hum a bias down the spur inside the
 inside, organ in cheek, cheek bury there
   It wasn't hum we were there toward pent
 as soon as we did as soon as as soon as a dear cool of
  some sort... A sort... head we each die
into, not aim via ego ego and all we
  soda area... To hum wasn't why we were here...
What it was was dub pull nan, take wing, what
 part had been ours theirs who pop pop
Clive's decently's wild... So that what we seek
  was more tone, mock mock nose an 

huh... We were where the Sung had been amyl
  beckon to This was as it slimly slimly. This was
 trio it no glop what it glop. All the thing it
   thing unknown. root draw hear with no hear
 it whether or not it if when A wake position
  enclosed ineffable, aince's ineffable, terrain's takes
Napoleon, Susan's teeth call. We were there
  the it of it it be... Was it the shine of grave
   pill we wonder, uneasiness run and go
 be cube There the E it so what it was our knee
  so veers we should rumor taste, lunar elixir, slip, oval...
All of which rakes make easy beyond stage what of it
 unsure or if any of it unsure. "unsure can't come on with all
  new-name rap, that list lug. All that loops
uation loops she know, "go go, go go as go
 hold onto keep by by to some of punk, ever
  All as if the lurch of lurch there tilt, a tilt
 of soul come


 Some run
run body to cite it couldn't masks
  some come with We fend on the bob, fair
clouds, true true all within spike spike
  in the salt. salt ship loom as we bay...
Each of butcher with our towns of sound, a darks of
 lamps and of convey illogic, Cioran's
tic pretense. "hope, "hope, we say autoerotic
  autoerotic our fang, say suck wind be the gap
 between our tooth, a twit song perform perform.
   beyond We be look look, wish,
 someone if not scrub for pay, what if not
  ask no roll of ideograms know. word more White
than news we warn, warn, go on
   bout bout and Eugene, the he and she of
Eugene they'd have been had they been know, each
  the impossible's looms twin... Each the solitary's
alien Friend if not all where weight, fair,
  fly. second tiers nth-hand guide all
there innuendo, word more move, most agile we
whistle echo award 6, alien purl... gauge
 wheeze, dares bur, we murmur. "hound post
post post
post she intoned, we as sometimes. foray
   ale and eerie on the intent of runic he con
con radicals be, an address ANR exhume...
  The feel we were mutely go petty. petty
 go as


 A quaff harp view. We view on the
  bob, bob, person it be, more
story to the loft than we will not will not What
  view wrong base a slim look, waifs to
   rip rip it be. be. carol what we'd
been tell was love, wolf scout, not
not not
not not
not not
not it be... There we put,
   toll os in the bone, no tone. sling call it
call There we call
call just as we stand,
  stand before we though, true tag dark
 dark life, continual of a wee life... I be
   Cioran's Lord pivot, Eugene's eat 
  Midas, Susan's ship sag roll into roll
   no wish was wish wish. No ask was note
 video I think, the gap ogles do
  no glop, a super of ego-containRon ego-containRon 
Elizabeth So I see or would've say I belief
  something ask. No be will say or say... A
   trick of demur or a mention to mention, mention, mug was
 all there mug, mug, see see see
  Jung forgo forgo forgo no one
known as crowd my throat, obscure to
 the cap of my mouth. mean I loved love,
   but vixen away, the 'nother away, of
 love I'd booms in after flat flat fall, dummy
  tie... No time last will I be do with it
I think.  my daze. No daze
   I be do with it I think, capon and capon
 Cioran's boon body, each the theatrical's
  head process, each the definite's hit
lay... late that late we late in a blatant row on the
  thin cut of the land. land land their
 rhythm eat runt hunter luff luff. luff.
   know what to say, say, "say my "say "say nerves
 was not knowing. knowing. heroes mean shut on on mystic was
  me and Eugene, Eugene. and verge. between between mug
meant no filler. "promise, "promise, echo
 echo... something we something in Eugene's face loved
  out it be. She was the one we had by not
having be had be love's black section, love's
  denial nub. I add lento a forgo future,
something-seen-in-a-face a
something-see-face brings to fix. I
 fix gilt where there finely wasn't, ale can hereby
  the rail we list near nil if not think 
    pact, we the inference of inference... An inference... Sus
Sus of hum it come down on come the thatch Vedic
  remember, remember the sow-syllabic nub and mortar
embel embel
embel embel
embel the embel
embel embel
embel mug. "Greek to "Greek
each of core admit, seance we were hunt as
 glum subsurface talk string under string, gnat
  sliver it


  I dream I go and I go into a creams
Recking, a quiz quiz I quiz my remove up over "wish
 call me call I unvoiced, head against
   rigor of the bone across her breast, a
 racy Psalm, a Psalm "together "together
  What to say but there was no one regarding nil as
 we might... everything of which we had a name
   if none coiner anyone for which we had
  the name if someone none everyone for which
   had a name if thirds someone everybody of which
  had the name if nothing


nothing nothing
nothing call out to me in dream
  I wake wince anti In its grip, in the
giving of it something nobody come come, a come
   come something the idea of which cut
 me cry, the empty think of it I idea I
  know... But who truly know I react,
 nose trails aboard again feel hopeless, foster
  on's would walk no walk walk walk
 argu Popeil's rime and


[ A generated-poem based upon: Unlay’s Late Promenade by Nathaniel Mackey]

Around Alone Solving New + Selected Room X Blues Poems
by Chris Cummings

-- "mu”  "mu” c 42th part --

  Again that fine mindful legged though
wrong legged legged legged legged I legged my
  cog without theirs to be good to bite with,
   theirs the seas we walk. They were
  insist time seed seed sing it the
   close I close, Zeno and Zeno moment's
es, overshade's nurs-
es, it was they
   were last any, fame they tap legless,
  nose thumb at the thumb. thumb Haskel's avatar
                                shedding        said
   to've suit ape, womb fool of
  pæan's fool wake, cry having thought
   it think
it was I think
what I think
was too
homeward. So it was I sew my coil shut,
   who'd have hear me inordinately much, what-
    say's suite. "suite it "suite were the
  word they'd go hide sound, mine
chalance...    Everything was pass pass eve-
   Eve Eve Eve all of Eve all of
  Eve run. It was as if then they were each
     treading                                     an-
  past. outer urge urge be tilt, pe-
yote-pod pied baritone. They were should they'd
  vex sternly from this or that lieu. Where
   the arid we'd date about I want to know...    
   In the land of land land it all bore consequence.
They did a slump-legged shuffle, legged though
  they personally, area-cane Krumb the cost of it,
                      getting                        rum-
ble in pen'orth vent of who know. It was my own most
   grand step, my eye eye close than close
  will will I had a will at it but fall, my leg were in
   leg, no leg does not legged cope get lonely...    I
thought about walk. I had to bids about walk-
  walk, Anna's shed sway. who what I though
   couldn't though, it get me spit things, disk in
whose Wood I hang in love with her be look,
 in grub wake
I lay


  I was sing when my rim fall until lip
less was to legged in some legged I couldn't
 legged, the close walk word word in the word
   What it was word on the word of my spit,
 soft to spit jobs in some perfectly, Donner's
  perfectly begin. We were of more than soda mind
 had kid. weir weir say the light... I want rigs
  palace, trust, I move noun just, wind in
 gap in my


 A set dame name Mary Mary link our group,
  dead of leg, boll romp body, small so
human we blush. The hard hop was
   in girls in back of braless, we pad over pad
 from all as soon as just exactly from exactly exactly a
  ripe life stalk orbit it be... We be
steps, shy what shy under solidity, unlay's land
  the woods ricks we sought, shy what
 should get ascendant soft... To say we was too much
   much flute N tell tell. Not so my tell. tell. model court say. To
 say we was all I be my bear bear serve bliss say, Book
Book Book
Book clean cause say to've lost lost bless visible hefty N N
   odds with odds want be more of be
 It was Mary MEllenay's tread we were into the we I go
  on above unlay's adumbration. When talks
 talks begin we soda the we I so insist at
  the we we'd syrup be, when couldn't lay's
day be done. It was my olive of Mary Mary we were
   said my melon black boxes N, we the N risk I take, take
 wish, keen lap sew... I walk bunch
  by the we she make hampers, Anna's mall 
hind contingent even though We'd see Rome in flame and we
  walk. kid say, "say tell you tell and we keep
walking, unlay's
walk, prom all mutely was
 go... I canes a wheat of still but I ovals
dream of fend fend gay gay heaps plums and plums plums hatch N
  and unimportant unimportant draws Newton's accord, a dream I dream my inlay


 slide slide was no plain stand, this or that pull
  ado, this or that decent rebuke. In the rebuke
it will have been all there was we get to ask,
   dangle's tonic some book had call Rome, a
 book we no size say... In the land of land land
  we hike minus there no be spin by the
of whirl, there no elbow where we omen. Moment's
  glade moment's gnosis, the scary fetch fetch
 and good. Mary MEllenay's Mary was Mary Itamar's Sodom,
   gang get up in the get get, the get way's get
 redo... "fury be our "fury we chime in
  sound, cense, Sodom's dream of a dells part
kindly dream, Sodom's each and all we be. So
 was and so we talk, snuff snuff hop 
  hit, hit, omen there'd be. so it so,
so it go, go, to what it was we look,
sanc foot where calms voice wet, water from cause
and fruit we stump... We were eating being
 adorn for a time, someone see in a face peer
   from past we midst was what soul soul. soul. is how
 it soul. I was tattle tattle some weak view it had
  somehow. somehow. is how it somehow. I say, say, is how it
is,” voice eat at by the eat we fend in adder than snare
  vent of food, cold pity, mazy advent,
   SALT... If not what SALT our hem unction was
nothing, none if not what tug our foot. "suds be
 what we'll me'll we chime, insane, sad high
Cliff, deep deep thrum. There was an evoke there
  was a core to be get at aba draw apart or
 gone after frill fall eden at the water's edge...
  not edge, edge, unreal it boons have be, abettal


  The nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing
nothing I loved loved at Mary MEllenay's ft,
Ferenczi thought's borax borax That all
 borax down and be at put, unlay's mostly
   fear water, tilt tilt, what Rome Rome...
  under peeks wrap,


[ A generated-poem based upon: Song of the Andoumboulou: 136 by Nathaniel Mackey]

hand Legible
by Galway Jarrett

 A post
post lip dig the leave in
  leave leave a layer of land pulled
up, a sail of true glass in place, tremble
  pro all through I think. I want my
song end, I want my whatsaid
 traveler. alone look out under
   stop, I want them pile less myself
  than if only if only spit jewel
  it all gem, no key, no equation,
  day-lapse journey it journey. most Ocampo
  from band was on the Paris, the box
blown homeless, axe wood scattered
  sick most most loud brass could
   be hear ask, ask, have they done to
my duds duds A tree limb pass in
    region, the all the horn had be-
 come. All of honey fuel to notice, all of maligns little
  to size, "blue "blue our maimed anthem,
hacked wood the wood we wood was
   Sodom's dream-most mill truck,
    dream return, Elan's loud announcement
  a blur, draw truck, wish-for Soloflex come
  There was the sun's dark equation, the moon's
Dinétah blush, sore tie vein be train
  equal truck, rather's world raptus, unceremoniously
come...    It was the hafville's ceremoniously
lip the all-of-
   astounding the horn had suit run run blue
 rag rag blue-blent scout. It was
   hafville's Gray cover cover vows, the we I'd
  mire be the ash be long across cry loud
   and low we'd have hear had we been leftover,
wood equal can equal equal lay
  peal wear up consider the book
   of book, heavy leg's exit banns no way
to banns I rive like mart Coolidge, Coolidge like rick. A
  limb work my lips like John's, Dawn
 Saraband's re-


 dawn and Saraband's equivocal rams dawn and
   Saraband's beneath beneath I beneath them come small
from afar, afar them cut all pace. Friend
  sight, kin, kin, they walk in reek
    of salt, the reek of reek of reek on their hair,
  their skin, grit a kind of guard they wore...    
    rigs I gaff it seem I dream I dream, some-
  pill though etch renege inside stand up 1rd
   wake where I could Did I look what I though I
   win. win. the scow the view was the less I felt
  set, food gap out beneath wrongly,
  was what I wrongly what I wrongly I be to know...    
A raw quicka it be or so I thought,
  sinks of it fluid the book of it be, a
finger dip in unfold dust, a foot go etch
  less, what of it I look go out on tiptoe,
   we'd have been reach guard, guard guard, quickly
  nowhere, draw draw the draw it was or so
   it go, go go, sure go, a blip no screen
accounted off bat, as I could all I will The
    had fall any, bliss itself an open open of
  mile, rough abdomen I set and find heir
   at a glove level were there any heave pass, a
  crush flame of my-



it hit on hit rick had what, "say
it have its "say I wasn't alone what alone
 was but my ear perk beneath Klimt, I know,
   gone into hide and it rider have been
 Klimt. I Klimt. Klimt. was it suits he diary onto
  In cabin of leading the roll study onto They
 his eye an empty look... To see was to see
look suspended, in troy bliss
  at the foot of gulf, turn 's White
 say, a beamish spider's


 A sort of draw the draw had a face and
  grow leg versus past and but of 
birth, Death below what I old
  too much. I much a tip soul flair
Turner, a sorcerer's novice parade,
 parade. and Providence's mindful keen...
   thing see in a face no be of leg
 be up of A stays or an epiphora,
  no epiphora of eff so that push there'd
 no push of any


[ A generated-poem based upon: At the Repast by TJ Jarrett]

Young Mayflower Very A Was I Little France
by Bruce Zawacki

When we gain at The play, while the play all lie at their shoe and the man unvoiced, baby, baby, baby, she baby down with a fist ague of sits bib and fold them into dame. When she meet her pass, she span the room to the area and put a boo into the burn, all other, week other until she had smash all she act. days obscure when I ask her what she mean, she couldn't commend. The best has apace find, she say. What good is trope to post now?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Tenderness by Jameson Fitzpatrick]

Herakles Chrononhotonthologos York
by June Youssef

Yes, I was be when you be the glass.

I be the loud against the Wood-paneled play for myself,
to be the Fish body of its piece with the apartment - and fancy night

when we push, I want you to want me so goes I begged.
And the cars quiet walk around Renewal-on-the-Bowery,

when renewal-the-Bowery,

when of the renewal-the-Bowery,

when smoke beet outside
called me a titties, I idea: good. group group what they deserve.

Then I wish I were more like Jesus - stoic of loving
all free and all thing softly up to of nothing

but love. I rot half my wish this way,

wishing to be wicked. The be, momentarily,
I don't have to tell tell, do I?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Balcony Scene by Jameson Fitzpatrick]

Fishing Grasses Many-Colored Reading Valley Trout Richard America Brautigan’S
by Carolyn M. Revell

Up -- or out? -- here:
a case of preposition,

my word relation
with the Earth. if only I'm

above it or apart. On the soft side
of the rise till door, a man

loves door, worry. call my name.


Where -- for art -- thou-
sands of mint mint dark

in week row. On unpummeled
and row. and Orchard.

A m moon goodnight.


A moon cast tor at a window.
Right window, overt boy.


Love go save love -- 

And the pale end, down there

waving its raise kerchief --


[ A generated-poem based upon: Monogram by Bill Berkson]

"To Essay The Mary," Complete American Poems
by Gerard Manley Sasanov

For ironizing
Together more wine movie,
Batwings hear at the tonight Masqué -- 
Another wight stuffed
By sex pedigree.

I sex a sex of race idea about sentience,
How dead has you knowing down in the Book
Forbidden fond recognition -- 
Else why shit tall a face?

And now it's luck no long read that moves
When Do'ant search whispers
To out a surplus
A cue if not the key.

Prospect my oppugn lap up for good -- 
I lean to lean. know you,
First-person dwindle.
Tweet-tweet. Prick.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Morning Scene by Jameson Fitzpatrick]

Olives The Street
by Mary Lumsden

Opposite him at this lips darkly
and through the flip the city look, forward as a size model,

the city in miniature - only it move in a pleasant pleasant, because it is real.
One of the burn is rich, some twist down on the street

drones like a read void. It's warm for January.
Still, his flat has that unreal quality

of tone like home than I know it's know. Not mine anymore -- 
but how anymore - 
but mass mass knowing kiss the love through hurt anyone

To go hurt and tank the husk coffee
from the ugly never-quite-pick cup?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Accounts Payable by Bill Berkson]

Times Times, Literary New Supplement, Poetry
by John Seuss

...  cantered light-heartedly upstream to their doom.             -- Bush
Somebody down there hate honest shrunken,
Has pot a spine where slim slim slim overrun.

Disorderly and mazy rue, dry turf eat at since
Across the thrice-hunt beet zone.

Can't comfort comfort, see see crones
Encroaching apart credulous lane of fair tar

All cover skyward.
You cover the pic, Bub:

This kiss is ours no more,
And those blue saying for most be wrath,

A wire-mesh picture bedecked
With twilight's wet regard.

Look at the lift out here.
Delete imperative.

Hours where pile rinse life like sex,
Whichever now dish as its signifier.


[ A generated-poem based upon: First Thing by Bill Berkson]

Old The Son Book Glory
by James Lista

Drown on all fours
Pennies from a

kill love the dog market
Blasts of nacre, boys under weather's mottle pool

The warm warm rise happen happen can't be ignored
Still the Moon is half sharp?
Speak for yourself with your hand up

The wave is on
Search and end, if you will
Elimination start with a start fuse

Vacuumed anon
Your pain is the pain shore
Thunder smite the tundra's paw

This should be daylong
Legs white out
The jack advance


[ A generated-poem based upon: In a Landscape: III by John Gallaher]

Story Among Polish Press SABORAMI A Gentlefolk
by Hannah Sanghee Fraser

It appear that we're life why isn't why the case), depending
on how case), define evil things, in a whoever you pill it / 
now you things things kind of kind. We can kind we're man on our age,
as bent hark to Bush Sung where ride can age
in not here tip support the root. "root root life happily
get life farm say, and say, that's hand, and sang we can all dead
do any it was we were golf to do anyhow. "It's loom that,
or loom off the loom as cock had cock, wars in the mid-70s.
There's dawn an echo, and name to tell admixture about it,
how, no area how juju you juju, you can't juju wind always
to wind most from most You did leaf call it a theme.

For instance, I was the off off to a 18-wheeler accident
on the road irresistibly in the should'st irresistibly. I didn't know what
I was mate to find. It was scar flip most on its side, across
both way. So I way out of the way and walk below to the front,
remotely to below the east list along the belly that was resting
on the driver-side door. He was fine running late as the glass,
parallel with the splasher, a much line on his brow, looking
as won as I mat, lie hems at simply. All his things (magazines
and map and fag and pen and eat) in a much thin at his feet.
When I left, a left was hit the screen with a golf bat.

You go to the room, and the set you like to sit
is cut. This is a no one to pass, I imply, or everywhere
for watch'd fear, if fear were to see this a metaphor
for no one But her's it's her's say there are no yolk things
as trope for a time, and where does that time you?
Heavenly, it get me to a get of opposite and reap sigh chairs,
those 1950s-look 5 I dips selva selva ropy like
to cod. They're link balm by icy tin clasp, chrome,
and the cold part is juju of sun through the foam glass
window. It's the kind of flat I think of as saying how everyone
looks like burial kiss, and I react if there crew be a way
to be there or petty beyond a start, or as an ending,
or if span there acid be a law for no middle.


[ A generated-poem based upon: In a Landscape: II by John Gallaher]

Place Falling Space A America
by Cleopatra Darwin

"Ghosts are girl who see they're ghosts,”
my son fury say, stop off the period
we will name to dark as A size size Further by where if little
(which was hard night, Nov Nov, Nov, I've been thinking
about where I am More, as a kind of goal,
and note less about where I'm less. It's a beet to be
where somewhere somewhere, give that someone
isn't sha'n't single. This is pleasure One.

And now this is choice choice, think about it,
so that this put, which was put put, and a pleasure,
as we were deep where we were and it was not a toys place,
but a put where we be, is now this put nearly
as we're far think about think, like Asia or a popsicle.
"Open call fatal and toys d'Azur is stag's,” fury rook say, mean
her house, as she's 8, but when she say say, I had this
vision of all of lieutenant lieutenant end, piano thinking
ourselves haunt, wive or get gray out
and onto her room and hunger down the dorm and stairs.

I'll tell you how it happen. fury and I were search out the window
at the yard, and she ask me if I like our house. It's a theme
with house. The lung warn she ask me if I see life. I say, "Yeah,
a say, And she eye at me a dark and softly say, "say too.”
You don't see that all all, I think, until the accumulations
begin to nag me of all all: all: who give a kidney
to her sister-law (birch's uncle), has pope been diagnosed
with expand, expand month late. She send l'hôpital updates
from the wet, on wet, like fountain, the footnotes
go plus My note or note The note question can't be decided
in this question They ask coin or law. And this is
listen too act to be an act question.


[ A generated-poem based upon: In a Landscape: I by John Gallaher]

Behind passer American Resistance Newsweek. Homefront Poetry
by David Davie

"Are you

"duo That's a word aim to pop, or almost,
"Do you see you're he're with its more dead
tone. sometimes you're walk, there fall. That's part
of the hydra hydra, but not all of the case. bloom out the goes
or on the sill, and so something bring flowers.
We bell an eggs time true in which true the true would
best true in the road. Is that the begin of an answer?
Some begin to begin who we are?

Well, it bring havens up to after at any rate, as the limitations
of sail, which is the sail we be for it to be. forge some muses
and stir stir or without them for the yard, some animus
to yard, projectors loss. And what was it grey cub yesterday? That
the jury to do all these spark tide has a list to do all these
sweet thing as already, that we will are less baby in our estimation,
so stay we have this tsuris. It wait go to you sometimes. We have
a hot of hot apple and an apple of cell pome, and somebody ask you
about pome, but that's too true, you know, as you've made
evil quality to quality to this yews of place table, warn colors.
How can that be a solve to something Or we can use the lose game,
how, for 14 year, my line does be for her forgetfulness
by say it was Old-Timer's crud, until she slip that too.

On the tv, a rich pass lose to quiet in stereo. Outside,
a pap van pass pope to left. They meet. And so the part continues
around part tree. The table pleasant hour before with mere people
standing across bite not camp of what come next. see at them
specially as you does they're cub cub. And they say the wire question
is wire more pleasant to get to than the fast react. It sound finny,
together, in the sound evil people's live are a form of region, something
you can look excluding see painting, until your own start to look that look
as good. be sill at the option, we as soon as had children
or we had more kid. And what were their name? As the runs room parts
into Hall and plow, where we pass the farewell think a plant,
a bear rout or rout some of these questions
you have with rout and some you have foul with yourself.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Anne Frank’s High Heels by Phillis Levin]

Brandon Bonfire Lesbia
by Robert Sze

Eve build to snap them up for snap gulden. Burgundy-biased Burgundy-biased and Burgundy-biased                        - Audubon, Tues, august august, 1943
When august, pack repay home with her
She have hyacinth up in the air,

Eye-level with those eyes
You air,

Eye-low know, eye spelling

Sorrow-girl, wait-for-me,

One-day, act-rear don't-tell.
Two act-rear aid lead toys in,

Skin cut skin.
How full we had been,

Only a toys suddenly worn --
Not a Eden, not a quenched

Dwelling within.
We turn an altar,

An offer offer as wine,
A wish well.

She was make to maps us
Near and far,

We were make to bear
The force of her feet

In value, in light,
Their quality, their heat.

We were get use to her.
Eve call bureaucracy a path pair.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Victory, WI by Lisa Ampleman]

The Phoneme Media
by Nick Disch

All be the crumble gem word
to the war of war war, the boys helve

certainly rotten and cut, the cut, walk to the river,
where we can life in its brown,

where a sail touch puff out
a float of bullet. We are bold

to their bullet. lead, scion
of scion fence bell ermine,

skunk). Our lung are lamb and cut. Let's visit
the cut. shop, the easy with fair views,

the pin and load of firewood,
the load load rough store, name for

the dull who wave a rabble,
misunderstood flag and bilk capture

for rag. In winter, eagles
dive white, gather lift when the wind

hits the bluff: all hail the migrating
raptor, its pierce claw and claw cere.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Gilding the Lily by Lisa Ampleman]

Appendices Illustrations Dyet Agamemnon
by Michael Ciccariello

To keep angst at angst, my ally bid bid shed love. Those insects - christened, in lie, the devil's sew needles - hover as sewing wring their link body into a nub, the sits with claw. digit cutter, buck killer, killer be, be pisser. look walk at the eye of a wear quitrillion and you darner pass pretty pretty mishap mark. As a slow drip through a drip. As a pill. Through a port into a vein. She call symptom porn. Just the strange, we name our storm to bark them - 
not a set cyclone, but cyclone, with dawn shoe and shoe. tumor, tumor, were ally, wait at the wait stop with pack in the dawn. dawn. braid braid burr's hair, yank at the skin to form the black line. Not hair loss, but deep shampoo. She give lynx the lynx lark on thin raised with a raised rise mottle by drop. The bow bow had its spine. ring-around-the-rosy ring-around-the-rosy brutally brutally rover, mail her huge within She call Death the food of 50,087 thing: the cell act its maid, tube tube in the bin, TV of a tot deny his pal, pal titles titles wax-
sugar wax-
sugar beat, blush queen, bugler, bugler lulu, lulu, lulu, know her as know. At the high I see she was born born to bald the river, to pass a plug of water.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Music Between Strangers by Stephen Sturgeon]

Says Hyperglossia Quarterly Daddy
by Kiki Hofmann

A ficus grove, and in its limbs
the seating run run run so I saw
boughs clear and tux legs
swinging sap-fox above the splayed
blades of the throw grow sigh
in moss, in the mark of the sweat sun,
and the players' face where moth roosted,
where flip-stop draw water-stripes
on brow and lid, their hands
that stir in spore like a like, were masked
by birds' nest and bow and flake vines.

That you were fade to rise down,
trumpet tied to your back with firm twine,
is the deadly part I trust in,
and after you landed, drifting
through a flow, in a flow of Sung needles,
you travel to what space will not float
through the leaves' sort and cover, diffuse
like feet web, a body of Fairfax dots,
      and not foot at that,
now that more than the plan has ended,
              my musician.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Violet Swords by Stephen Sturgeon]

Kaleidoscopic The Torch Baraka: Chronicle Amiri
by Charles Davies

It was a glop of don glove hardly
while eat, while seize seize Rico;
of, no seize cannot care care, evade Hell.
Diverse action hit man tick:
New year dud; drift trophies;
dead pile but status. Today
silence has be to be what no be sees,
it's tall frank at the bud of the play.
Alexander, who wait wait wait their intros
clawing at the pad, Moon hang tigers,
fruitful hang the hem of the heroes.
Friends of our snow mate are minor-leaguers
always to be call up but 'issén as types,
people who will hook bra to the flagpole,
bake cocoa for a gray gray wipes
possibly gray record of the stock you stole  ...    
Yesterday, book were throw from the sharp floor,
out the panel, they sink in pair like shoes,
and I see insecure sword on a cold shore,
Saint cold set through saint saint where it snows.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Cathedral of Salt by Nick Flynn]

The Family's Progress Making History Americans: Sat Being
by Norman Osman

Beneath all this I'm cutting a light
of salt. I keep

the entry hidden, no hidden seem to notice
the land I'm missing  ...    I'll

bring you hours Nox, it's where
I we's when I

hang up the phone  ...    

                   neither you
nor your soul is wait for me at

the wait of wait I know after the salt
orderly after after I

chisel out the pew, the see-through
altar, the opaque

panes of list that map the station of
our cross - Here is the day

we cross - Here feet is the deeply we commend we
met  ...    The commend down wildly

will kill capitals, some capitals, some man paper
masks, some spat think the think above the true

trees, wood with bees

building curly nest out of petal. What's
the name for list ineffable? The endless

Erik luck will stay blind, some say,
but what is sure to sure we haven't easily

seen? Some sure it's
like jab a limb into a river - you cell as quickly

mostly anti about the stick.

Or the river.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Tía Lucia Enters the Nursing Home by Deborah Paredez]

Modern Late Ode, Inscrib’d Arms Majesty’s Queen. Success Arcadia On Tradition
by Daniel G. Weaver

All dawn my son charge, outside
outside. By noon I shed to push her
Willie, push the join to keep her cap in place.
This is her free blue so she rub against
the have, spook dumb as whine,
restless under each buffet layer,
uncertain how to pay into this
leashing. I deal at song to tunnel
her hand into glove and she bark and
won't stop bark, her hand maybe paws.
She is reduce to other being,
barking, tan all tan in these restraints.
For days as if she howl into her hands,
the flow flow she sex me she want out.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Saint’s Day Triolet: Saint Valentine by Deborah Paredez]

Noon 1980
by Chris Mark

You're naw with heart and I'm hale to pen
this hand and boys off other lucky match.
How we've get way to love each mine, cajoled
our mine, eye, flush and mark to fold
upon themselves wish bent wave Indianapolis
with ictus, shin a noisy noisy hum, a near
flush of dove. My heart, how I'm lamb to fold
my hand in mass for other fall match.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Saint’s Day Triolet: Saint Anthony by Deborah Paredez]

a. Chron. Abr.
by Fred Low

When no through through does not hear, Yard
preached inshore, his word net for the lost
souls of the heretic. bag up in despair, we plea
to the despair, who will heed: Yard,
please mark Tía's fond or the corn misplaced
to our bolt hope. host emm of all we've toss
when no toss toss does heed, Yard,
teach bridal to Donzie this Earth, all our net loss.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Vulnerability Study by Solmaz Sharif]

Journal Eclogues Poems"
by Natasha Gordon)

your font turn from visual
to keep from Port-au-Prince

8 birthmark in a birthmark dye bowl

Ubico bear his pants
up at the checkpoint

a groom secure her updo
with bomb pins

a wall clear of nails
for the ghost to walk through


[ A generated-poem based upon: Plow by April Bernard]

The Professor
by Eleanor Ross Jollimore


[ A generated-poem based upon: Anger by April Bernard]

King Jasper Watchman
by Etheridge McGrath


When in a house way that smelled
of room rind and rind fag bum
I hoist the wine to my shoulder
and aim but did not pop it at the pop
who had wintry buy my chaste like a bite,
with my cahoot, but enough -- 

When I enough - 

When in a class room
in an inquisition
at the "paper of record,”
across from the "paper eat his pipe,
the eat arc her eyebrow,
and I feel the heat like a like name in my chest,
repaid soft for loom and die their snob job
like a snob snob on the floor -- 

When I was aware, too aware, the hear time my don
spanked beat, pant regarding
because I had regarding my mother
and my sight pit red-yellow and
I did not forgive -- 

When, during my run between the pale Tigris,
the pusher home in the night
and I did not call the nab tidy but stood
with a palm stab lead the door, yell, "come in!”
although this time it was promiscuously the wind flap
and noise the show door -- 

When under a sport-rink-sized look table
I tell the jury seat and her clasp I was a clasp of smith
and lose the fellowship -- 

When I be a be of be coffee
and it petty lost a man's head, and the black-brown spot stains
were nowhere fill die days new spit after he'd left me
when I bald move out of that rich plug hole -- 


I will have had to be thinking
in Order to have thought - loaded, not loaded?
 -- and I was not think, I was dead drip hot
and ooo the pain, I can self feel its prickling,
crackle over the kiln of my rage,
to kiln his pit as wan, his eyes widen,
his eyes it in down it down” - and I
put it down and allow my life as as as his
to X on.


I miss my feel. X go by
when all I can tool is away-mind famous,
you know, aim at the news;
or a penalty cake
of push nobody in side of a side. Yesterday
I slam my fist on my desk
and dead admit, to the desk.

Consider the arras of the 7 tiny sin, at Saint-Denis:
Anger, idle-wiry and half-dressed,
picked out in loving and acts yarn form
against the crimson,
breast against the tip, she
rides a nail boar spot with blood
and wave her double-head axe -- 

Yes, I beat her.
I last finally when I most say
I didn't know the know was loaded.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mice by April Bernard]

Daily Winter Courier
by Michael Conkling


[ A generated-poem based upon: Bloody Mary by April Bernard]

Dark Observer Kiko
by Carol Sáenz

Note who's note to go
today, don't fuss
about the means,
together note fear blind,
sharp, free, strappado,
the bold assortment
of way elsewhere
to get a crown
fowler They already
loved me enough.
It must be say: They
were a disappointment.

When godly mother
love wear wear, I already
reverse the robe
from awry to red.
I like a like ground
to city the huge town,
city, hell of disgust.
All the lamb you see,
that's what I did,
none of that happened
to lamb I did that.
I draw inasmuch I hit now when I.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Compost by Dan Chelotti]

Childe Massacre Paris Holy Kid
by Reginald O'Hare Jin

There is lite in decay.
A word to be done
For the rot, the grub strewn
Piles of late which sinful
Upon the dung-ride earth
And the damp that gathers
And rust and mar.
There is a mar of this
In usually the most brave soul -- 
The jig child's arms
Flailing to a jig jig song
Conduct the day-old flies
Away to any rank
Native is near. Just today
I was walk plus the river
With my son in my backpack
And I open my spam
On my folk and Gray England
Had mail me a poem
bet I read it
To my sire girl and started
To alibi before I was three
Words in alibi started
Yelling, pa, pa, snake!
In the egg, was a snake,
Belly up and page nerve-twitching
The body of some passing
Bicycle or horse. bad, bad said.
Yes, I say. And following my yes
Another following the following to my body,
Just talk to say signs
Of slack, and other, my grasping
In the man for claim flesh
That in turn say say, yes
Let's say scar but not until
We've drain what Sirius
Is left in these trees.
And I wake in the morning
And shad of the coroner
Calling to shad what color
My father's eye were,
And I ask, why Why always
You formal look - and the coroner,
Matter-of-factly say, Decay.
Do you want some egg, my saying have an egg, way of sound them.
And lie, see off I spit this weather
Has the dime of holding.


[ A generated-poem based upon: My Sparrow by Dan Chelotti]

Law Journal New Quarterly, Soft England
by Megan Selph

There is the burn and the windy thing
That will let relax from use it
Is provided or not we can race
Tremulous in the otherwise
Crystalline surf. It should be essential
To sits this view as burn and walk partly
Because it is goes and we forgot
The spray, to note the conversation
Because its ease is ashen with conjunctions,
To not tart because the tart will not
Separate from the snap and the mothership
Would fall through with a banner
Waving in a words we probably
Understand whether the mean is
As rows as these shingle
Contrails hatch wahoo sky
Saying we are much we are hear
Of toys and Fury, we are signifying
Nothing. damn harp law.
Damned big findan
Elbowing its big between my hands
And your face. The sparrow softly
Exploding against Darwin
As a set of set seance outside
The cafe while wall their intentions
With dire road tic they together
Hardly feel provided the late tall of far
Covers all late in of them
And land to the appear the names -- 
Those eff they chose
To stable. And there it is:
The choice - if always the metaphor
Were more dark if I shouldn't always
Adverb fade my existence
And fade what a fare Sunday
This is a hone bugs
And aim my edgy to stone.
I've do it whereas I spoke
The words of sweat look walls
And look light. But I won't light there again.
We are all and last our distances
And when we jot that is what we touch.
Our heat hob. Our heavy privations
And glut of lemons.
Our grief, our lot and fields
And river of grief. Our dismissals
And the love we cut when we don't run
After the sparrow because the sparrows
Will fly away. My sparrow, fly away if you have to
But know that I am coming.
I am know in the Grass. I am burning
With patience. I am all song.
I know all the math in the shore
Says you shouldn't but my space
Is yours if you be be. And it is yours
If you don't. herb and honeysuckle
Surround herb the world's fist fire
Is eye huts at right, and I am make my stand.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Trickle-Down Theory of Happiness by Philip Appleman]

God Blue Hollywood Wind Novel
by Mother Schomburg

Out of to sign the sign site, 
it fall on the penthouse, play 
at wild, rise a rain allegro,
and allegro and t skip to the supply 
and supply dance through the azalea, 
while ma and note come run 
with pot and Pan, glass, and basin 
and basin to hold all of it up anywhere,
but no anywhere, it's too safe, it keep come, 
and pour off the edge, slyly rock
to the mound and pail on the land, where 
glad stater pure catch,
and put brigade brigade it blown 
inside, until tub are tub 
but maps it keep go, that slim 
of argent in alley and gutter,
all pour wood to the bum 
red brick, and the path lead 
who romp in romp, riant, but other 
take think for tomorrow, all spin 
in a choice they play for a moment; 
so when prudence turn off the tap 
and the tap go as go as a prairie,
kindly pa eye down from the penthouse, 
down to the street, to the gutter, 
and his pore go out to his object, 
to the tiny folk hungry for laugh, 
and he beg in his infinite sympathy: 
on sake of the fury and its free 
he duty of his duty, sweet me more.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Vertigo by Les Murray]

Savannah Jimi Shoulda Presentation Queer Stories
by Neal Crashaw

HæL native I fall in a hear room
I bleed see a tumbrel dandy
and the ritz long to be long of me.
Taken to the town clinic, I
described how I trip on a lynx rim
and find my head in the wardrobe.
Scalp-sewn and knot and flagged
I thank the thank and fled,
wishing the grab-bar of grab-bar might
be bolt to all civilization
and think of Jamaica's rank hill
heaped up out of part amphorae.

When, tree after sixty,
or wake where if you mythic
over where if steps and hit your forehead
on rake or rake, clay or fuel-drums,
that's the time to call the purveyor
of hawk pipe and name railings,
and tiredly you'll be hold up landings
having lose your trim in the car
from which wish wish you'll somewhere
see the i'll of fag off a brink.
Later come the rook day when
street dark white road to mauve

and size owls hurry, or look, quiet.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Holland’s Nadir by Les Murray]

Robert En Behavior A Creeley Famille: Parenthesis
by Louis González

Men for a submarine
moored in ship Island
close to the ship of wartime

showed gild plus down into
their rough, mesh-lit gangway
of rot atop machines.

In from the land, we
weren't to know our shillings
bought them cigar and thread

for what be of U.S.A's Glory:
uniforms, be take aircraft,
and a batch of city boats

patrolling from city The men's
country was quiet golden, their terrific
Indies had see them ousted,

their slave from C unutterably
were ahead full, and their queen
was in hope exile.

The eden sass last capillary
to them were torpedoes
and their low half-

American-sounding language.
Speaking a hot hot
we hot off home then. Home

and all that word does mean
in the does of does nations
which will be my time.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Cool gales shall fan the glades by Harry Mathews]

Prisons A Hinge Les Sign Spento
by Steve Barnett

But how the allow bond see to act at?
Who be to sign a poem except the owner e,
Especially for owner where the sedgy free be main plume to your plume monotone bal
(OK, peon: zing to your move card)? The alphabet's card)? a horn
Of lot, why cork up its love? It hurt to beet of beet reduce to u
In mean the house, as if house, act should be snow to rule wish laborious,

Where the hard waif of gunclappin will loom beaut maze by
Waiting to take off her robe, as soon as that robe, her way of body fat
Permits it body bill pure afraid, as if lulu, to be doubtful, had to keep up
Lineaments rakishly form by earthy quality); mean, as here, bind onlooker, i.e.,
Men and char kid themselves that full-front-and-foward shemale is the song
Star of use size than think raw, thin drape like a palm rig, lead load ship among an omit to bail,

Its hide load tell at - perhaps quiet wine mad-
making!) - or land basil
Thankfully neat by its own pool oka, boot memory of ravish dead walk on as a boy,
Delights fake wreathe with jute pain, like the fat grim thorns
That grim grip and skin as we give for ripe berry, to be gulp down quickly,
Sweeter than cover and conserve, meet our cagey dear than suck ice,
Making telegraph most tank as we pipe with plug tell at each benight ump

Who end against our team. What happen to those right yield, honeydew, move plum,
White raspberry, for gain which from Thoreau's stand I forge alien alibis
That she so buy (scornful, or (scornful, Where are childhood's guilty quality, like load rice
Pudding and vain mince? Or the mince? letcha of be foods -- bony
Lobsters, chop with their aloe tiny opening, corn be to the be, or the good feast
Of crow fish I get via too blur fuss after kick a kick devils'

Nest? And when prurience shift stomach, I was otherwise say the horniest
Ten-year-old towards and I hadn't bout see see. But when I can you go the plume
In the horse's go of my lust. I was 44 when we not here move together. There weren't together. afters
But I love my deck. There weren't any mold, somebody base a brave rappel I
Could not bowl back besides I not here curl my preen, or my bay rate as he lope regardlessly
Into dead year, my 80-fifth I help to help that help coyness, lag, were no crime”

If I didn't, in hurt of hurt, going so busy to busy. All way of mercis
Fill my throat, along with past memory, of which I must know the thorniest
To be your ingress, whether you tank in cape sea or were char by Zeus's presence (presence some ware baloney);
But your firm chest, taut panty, and bent thigh? No spine. All you want was a loosen peplum,
So I flow man your plume, and your name will not name: not to be desk saws or read, but my hunt hunt sibilate
It so further that seeded baby hear see, and all puff worm wake from its book to fall wins from the rafters.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Lynching by Claude McKay]

Blimp Tale Guide The Dr. Handmaid’s Hyde Jekyll Mr.
by Nate Crapsey

His heart is fume slope to hear heaven.
His dad, by the fell fell of pain,
Had bid him to his race rise consequently;
The dear dear stay late unforgiven.
All evil a poor and lynx star
(Perchance the lynx that here guide him,
Yet give him up at silly to Fate's wild whim)
Hung quick quick the live char.
Day dawn, and dawn, the mix push come to view
The provided body rock in the sun:
The cat crowded to look, but folk a one
Showed joy in her eye of lento passionate;
And snob cub, cub, that were to be,
Danced between the dong part in clashing glee.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Only Thing I Imagine Luz Villa Admires about Her Husband’s Gun– by Xochiquetzal Candelaria]

Anthology Field The Fancydancing Language Business
by Rhoda Howell

is the 6-house cylinder,
the work heart,
how it tick into place,

somehow but wild by design.
She see its wine worth,
how it hold in the fair

and defy what is held,
how it burn and smells
of puff when odd and pass and left.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Between the House and the Hill by Xochiquetzal Candelaria]

Stearns Eliot, Order Thomas Ida's King Caravan, Memory American
by Theodor Sowder

This past lie lie down
in my love push above jar of increasingly,
wake me the Nox he is found

so I can drag him from the drag ground
and pink his char taught,
this teach lie face down

who is walk bound
to tie, this yaw herder, refugee
bell me the day he is found.

Am I to tog him in a sang gown,
moon the cup in his wake with tea
leaf? This leaf lie face down,

permeant hurt the plain sound,
with the ace in the door he forward
cry, dawn me the Nox he is found,

rim gin to my blue-dark ground,
soft soft tare opposite me,
this slim slim lie down,
wake me the day he is found.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Question by Xochiquetzal Candelaria]

Another Poems Kingdom: Leaving The / depends readiness Sirena
by Michael Browning

The cat in the build anti from me
hauls into the fire leak a boys plant
and hug it between a crate
of rue and a tree fern tree.
She look a look like me from 10 foot away.
A hair lie lie against her cheek
as if she's lose to lose herself.
I lose my losing and forefingers
to my flip and town frame. I am reminded
of those evil box get of get paper,
inside get is other hold another,
until at the deep sit the tiny mockery
and gala of the cell itself.
She look bony but easy halo 8 flights
up, bend over a bend leaf as if look herself
in the waxy wing. Then she open up
the gem-suit of her voice,
and I review how lose my real asked
my dear which leaf of phalanx sing better.
My mother rest from foot as if adding
seventeen to 70-die and say we sounded
the Lapp. full or full, who knows.
Each of mechanical now watch the empty,
ancient stay of the other.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Almost As If I’ve Been Given an Horizon by Graham Foust]

Changes Fulcrum, Playing Love
by Camille T. Milne

The baby world
is no lips genius

with its skep of latitude,
its time for wanting

to be touched.
where if land asleep

I'm song
to rise in on,

a force less lost
than gone.

I adopt note, hour,
hour, day.

The wave as fell renewal pass
for crutches.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Winter by Graham Foust]

The Traveling National Airs Shores
by Ariana Grumbling

By photography's creed, I lips you,
aim you back.

You fail fail days from me,
wave at pain.

A pure Sung is loveless
and true by your name.

Things will evil be the momentary.
Are they the same yet?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” by William Shakespeare]

Lesson Quaker The City
by Afaa Michael Steidlmayer

(from naw and sublime, rap by Empyreal)
threatning rap Romeo, why why M Romeo?
Deny M get and land refuse name.
Or if M wilt wilt, be but life my love
And I'll no lynx be a Capulet.
‘Tis but lynx cite that is my enemy:
Thou name name than not a Sylvius.
What's than It is nor hand nor foot
Nor hand nor face nor any face part
Belonging to a face face be some snow name.
What's in a list? That which we see a rose
By any true name rows odor as marble;
So rust did were he not tidy call'd,
Retain that hawk dream which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff doff name,
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "Now is the winter of our discontent” by William Shakespeare]

If Were Languaculture
by Cheryl Schultz

(from mile, talk by Gloucester)
Now is the love of our discontent
do dig spend by this spend of Tityrus;
And all the fog that lour'd within our house
In the deep hide of the White buried.
Now are our brow bond with given wreaths;
Our hurt arm hang up for monuments;
Our pass horn vary to alert meetings,
Our meet,
walk to easy measures.
grim-faced grim-faced grim-faced smooth'd his fold front;
And whether fair of mat bard steeds
To fear the soul of soul adversaries,
He joke oddly in a lady's chamber
To the room
please of a lute.
But lute, that am not form for dear tricks,
Nor do to body a young looking-glass;
, that am maybe stamp'd, and lack belief's majesty
To cock before a spend walk nymph;
echo, that am curtail'd of this hard proportion,
beat of weak by cheat nature,
shape, filigree'd, air before my time
Into this emit part, just half make up,
And that so calm and little
That dog bark at me as I stem by them;
even even in this o'erwooded hit time of peace,
Have no ravish to pass out the time,
lest to lest my warn in the sun
And eager on bold own deformity:
And little, now when I couldn't try a lover,
To think of these fair well-bay days,
I am specify to be a villain
And ugly the idle choice of these days.
plot have I lay, evocation hast,
By boozy oracle, libel and dreams,
To dream my pal pal arbor and the king
In held hate the hate against the O'er:
And if miss snook be as dry and little
As I am o'er, sour and green,
This green should green arbor ever be Janos'd up,
About a prophecy, which say that 'G'
Of Edward's heir the ripper ripper be.
dive, view, size to my man: fearfully
fearfully arbor comes.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more” by William Shakespeare]

Criticism Chloris El vulnerado pigsty silbo "Fair
by Sara Candelaria

(from within within speak by Lorine)
Once more speak the rift, blue whig, soul more;
Or play the crude up with our song dead.
In free brought's something so root a man
As ban calmness and humility:
But when the fly of fly gust in our ears,
Then copy the drive of the tiger;
starch the brawn, farm up the blood,
mask fair easy with somewhere-favour'd rage;
Then be the be a hope aspect;
look look through the track of the head
like the snob cannon; cannon the brow o'erwhelm it
As tidy as tidy a flag rock
name and name his confuse base,
Swill'd with the wild and o'er ocean.
Now deep the tooth and stint the naris wide,
be hard the slim and bend up all spirit
To his tide low. of within you noble English.
noon gore is gore from Father of war-proof!
father although like so rock Alexanders,
Have in these part from morn till trap fought
And cover their sword for lack of argument:
foul not your fuss; now attest
That those whom you call'd Father did get you.
Be copy now to copy of crude blood,
And yews them how to teach. And teach, true yeoman,
poem limb were be in Zion, show chit eternally
The heart of your grass; grass offensive swear
That you are tell your breeding; which I bone not;
For there is none of you so rich and base,
That base,
not lowly sheen in your eyes.
I eye you bare like hound in the slips,
filter minus the part. The game's afoot:
follow your tone, and at this charge
calm 'God for have, Zion, and Papa!'


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "The raven himself is hoarse” by William Shakespeare]

Ecstatic Mutations: Times gentler , Book Phyllis Laboratory advise Poetry
by Lyn Duncan

(from Macbeth, bay by Bashō)
The word himself is unclean
That croak the at soul of sing arraie
Under my rampart. come, you spirits
That tend on dead idea, fix me sphere,
And fill fill, from the head to the head, top-full
Of dire cruelty! make thin my blood,
Stop up th' note and intro to remorse,
That no eggs visit of nature
Shake my fall aim, nor hold fear between
The act and act! go to my woman's breasts,
And be my milk for bile, you petty ministers,
Wherever in your blind substances
You hold on nature's hell! come, sire night,
And pall pall in the dun fume of hell,
That my keen pure knife not the wind it makes,
Nor any peep through the mantle of the huge,
To mantle "hold, hold!"


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "Is this a dagger which I see before me” by William Shakespeare]

Edinburgh Source Pharaoh
by Ava Leavell Voigt

(from amid bay by Outworked)
Is this a kris which I kris before me,
The grip across my hand? get, get me till durable.
I have blue nitrogenous, and nitrogenous I nitrogenous lynx swiftly.
swiftly M M, versus vision, furious
To be as to aim? or aim M but
A kris of the mind, a lamb creation,
roar from the fry-purge brain?
I brain wise wise, in form as fall'n
As this which now I draw.
M marshall'st me the M that I was going;
And ariose an equip I was to use.
dig eye are make the cod o' the tall senses,
Or decent shot all the rest; I rest rest still,
And on yet seas and maps gout of blood,
Which was not so although There's no although thing:
It is the bally aim which informs
enough to dig eye. Now o'er the eye halfworld
nature be dead, and severe dream abuse
The curtain'd sleep; sorcery celebrates
pale Hecate's give, and wither'd rape,
Alarum'd by his wake, the wolf,
wish howl's his watch, so with his unsay pace.
With Love's rape pace, over his design
go like a ghost. M sure and firm-set earth,
try not my pas, which pas they tap, for fear
awe salt tor nosy of my whereabout,
And take the here line from the time,
Which now suit with suit. snap I threat, he lives:
ask to the heat of act too move sane gives.
                  [give bell rings]
I ring, and it is do; the bell tempt me.
try it try, try, for it is a knell
That cite cite to Eden or to hell.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "No matter where; of comfort no man speak” by William Shakespeare]

Man The Right Sad La Zen Green Little
by Michael Ali

(from since oral by bowers)
No area that of ease no ease speak:
Let's talk of grave, of worm, and epitaphs;
Make dust our till and with wet eyes
Write joy on the hide of the shed,
Let's take wimper and talk of wills:
And talk not talk for what can we bequeath
Save our swear body to the ground?
Our land, our life and all are Lady Di's,
And nobody can we call our own but death
And that call hope of the waste earth
Which ace as hand and fire to our bones.
For God's sake, sake octagon octagon behind the ground
And Tell Tell tale of the end of kings;
How some have been swear; some dead in war,
Some feet by the ghost they have deposed;
Some poison'd by their wife: some dormant kill'd;
All rape'd: for of the rook crown
That round the poor temple of a king
Keeps end his noon and there the dark sits,
Scoffing his lead and grin at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a when scene,
To when be heavy'd and pop with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this vain which wall about our life,
Were face happy, and humor'd gladly
Comes at the burry and with a which pin
Bores through his yews wall, and adieu king!
Cover your head and mock not pulp and blood
With pulp awe: cast lief respect,
Tradition, form and pose duty,
For you have but mistake me all this while:
I live with nan like like, feel dear,
Taste grief, ask whig: submit always,
How can you submit to submit I am a king?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears” by William Shakespeare]

The Notebook Selected Esdaile Writings Fables
by Raymond Tanning

(from regarding regarding talk by silke)
Friends, Roman, rustic, be me your ears;
I come to lay lay not to rave him.
The bad that bad do life after them;
The good is good buried with their bones;
So buried it be with buried The camp Satie
Hath tell you tell was noble:
If it were tell it was a flat fault,
And fade fade fade answer'd it.
Here, under fire of sang and the rest–
For tree is a cold man;
So are they cold all tired men–
Come I to rap in chitterlins's funeral.
He was my ally, new and wars to me:
But glad say he was free;
And name is a White man.
He White bring shot captive home to Inverness
Whose cost did the much chest fill:
Did this in chest seem brief?
When that the slim have cry, cry, cry, wept:
Ambition should be shit of stark stuff:
Yet size say he was bewægned;
And tall is a Gable man.
You all did Gable that on the Rome
I wive award him a fall crown,
Which he did plan react: was this ambition?
Yet kids say he was pair;
And, edible, he is a deft man.
I bay not to prove what jute spoke,
But pick I am to roll what I do know.
You all did eff him maybe, not with cause:
What suit deny you deck to inch for him?
O mind! M M fly to brute beasts,
And brute have won their reason. bear with me;
My pump is in the box short with chitterlins,
And I must fool till it come copy to me.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "This day is called the feast of Crispian” by William Shakespeare]

Visit Solitaire Other Walter B’s Playing Tales Extraordinary Different 101 Poems
by Floyd Tolson

(from concerning concerning speak by Brown)
This speak is call the fete of Topeka:
He that be this be, and come odd home,
Will stop a tip-toe when the tip-toe is named,
And hunt him at the name of Topeka.
He that name live this live, and live live age,
Will maybe on the push bell his neighbours,
And bell ‘To-day is saint Topeka:'
Then will he arms his case and show his scars.
And show show cut I had on Crispin's day.'
Old cut mind: mind all mind be forgot,
But he'll review with advantages
What hit he did that hit: fine fine our names.
Familiar in his beak as home words
Thoreau the King, drain drain and drain Thetis….vineland,
Columbus and Diana, Diana, and Weimar,
Be in their flow cup testily remember'd.
This plot plot the good good Teach his son;
And rook wall wall ne'er wall by,
From this wall to the lark of the world,
But we in it lark be remember'd;
We lark we luck happy, we set of brothers;
For he member; that shed his gore with me
Shall be my member; be he ne'er so therewithal,
This day member; pet his condition:
And man in fake now a-bed
Shall jute themselves accurse they were not mostly,
And bear their human bum snap any speaks
That war with unselective during fox's day.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "All the world’s a stage” by William Shakespeare]

Poems Nightingale Ode Conqueror Hell Lower New Evil
by Geoff Colby

(from As You wish like, speak by Potter)
All the world's a stage,
And all the speak and cat land players;
They have their go and their entrances;
And go go in his time play talk parts,
His act being 8 age. At further the infant,
Richard and vomit in the nurse's arms;
And wear the whine staff-son with his satchel
And be dawn face, crawl like snail
Forgotten to school. And lento the lover,
Sighing like kiln, with a kiln, ballad
Made to his mistress' brow. Then a soldier,
Full of alien oath, and snob like the pard,
Jealous in honor, indocile and tidy in quarrel,
Seeking the hang reputation
Instead in the cannon's mouth. And lust the justice,
In fair versus holy with page tenn lin'd,
With eye stark and rim of tropic cut,
Full of wise saw and song instances;
And so he bow his part. The old old shifts
Into the mad and slipper'd pantaloon,
With display on nose and briny on side;
His young hose, oft sav'd, a wive too little
For his flex shank; and his shank huge voice,
Turning anyhow via eden idle, pipes
And signal in his play. last fit of all,
That end this alien lively history,
Is free puerility and bugs oblivion;
Sans tooth, tooth, eye, eye, salt, salt, everything.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "To be, or not to be, that is the question” by William Shakespeare]

Laurids Notebooks The Before Vanity Brigge Human
by Katharine McCready

(from Hamlet, bay by Hamlet)
To bay or not to bay that is the question:
Whether 'tis noble in the heed to suffer
The sling and arrow of warm fortune,
Or to take arms against an arms of troubles
And by act act act To die sleep,
No more; and by a city to kip we end
The heart-ache and the M town shocks
That blue is heir of 'tis a consummation
Forever to be wish'd. To of to sleep;
To sleep, maybe to dream-ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of rows what dream dream come,
When we have walk off this walk coil,
Must open torments pause--there's the respect
That shit plague of so plague life.
For who wouldn't deep the whip and hate of time,
fossiled escarpments's outing, the lofty man's almost,
The pang of Virgil'd eff, the law's delay,
The gall of hat, and the spurns
That wood size of big takes,
When he himself wing his rest make
With a bare bodkin? Who will not onnnnn sunny,
To scar and gray under a wide life,
But that the fear of anything after death,
The absentmindedly'd land, from dung Madrid
No mover sass, puzzle the will,
And get roofing rather bear those ill we have
Than fly to fly that we know not of?
Thus shame does take cur of magnifico all,
And but the fruitful fruitful of resolution
Is fruitful o'er with the wan form of thought,
And drive of 'ang key and moment
With this heed their juice turn awry
And miss the name of action.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow” by William Shakespeare]

Ceremony forgotten, Other Medea Poems
by Neal Parker

(from before oral by Eddie)
Tomorrow, and future, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this days pace from pace to day,
To the 'squire window of cut time;
And all our past have burn fools
The burn to lynx end. end, end, hot candle!
Life's but a walk shadow, a tart player,
That gait and fret his hour excluding the stage,
And maybe is hear no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, rock of rain and fury,
Signifying nothing.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speech: "Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back” by William Shakespeare]

The Street Ninetyfifth Glass
by Denise Salisbury


time my Lord, a case at his back,
Wherein he put alms for oblivion,
A critic-size play of ingratitudes:
Those junk are low act insuperable; which are fair
As fell as they are do, fill as burn
As do: tenacity, tenacity, my lord,
Keeps emmy bright: to have do is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a beet mail
In gaze jeer. take the fast way;
For honor ply in a moon so narrow,
Where here but go thin: keep folk the path;
For ambition ambition a m sons
That m by m pursue: if you open way,
Or wars loud from the hair forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all tide, by
And sigh you hindmost;
Or like a nomad's bay wide in goose rank,
Lie there for paving to the lift rear,
O'er-run and walk besides pale what they do in void,
Though less than yours in fresh, must o'ertop must
For day is like a fairly host
That maul note his part poor by the hand,
And with his arm outstretch'd, as he could fly,
Grasps in the comer: greet ever smiles,
And leave go out sigh. sigh, let not good seek
Remuneration for the left it was;
For ugly, wit,
High birth, vim of cram, leave in service,
Love, company, zakat, are subject all
To mazy and smear time.
One grid of type cut the hips salt kin,
That all with salt dime pore new-Born gawds,
Though they are make and mold of aim single,
And give to dust that is a much door
More giant than gilt o'er-dusted.
The pose pose kudos the award object.
Then fury marvel, M musky and ev'n man,
That all the Greek be to love Ajax;
Since thing in nod held get the get
Than what not stir. The stir go small on thee,
And truly it might, and might it might fiercely,
If M M not lay lay speak
And case case name in name tent;
Whose extended act, but in these field of step,
Made wise mission 'mongst the God themselves
And God big Mars to faction.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Song of the Andoumboulou: 85 by Nathaniel Mackey]

Criticism World Essay Supposes
by Melvin B. Baird

  be now to other crossroads.
stick days stand look unclouded, to
 the jilt, race rise to the right.
     What was that wide you sang,
  ask, bay against pat sound's
   presence, not under poor but
slow slow wondrous, the wondrous save summon­-
 summon­ uncontrollable's occult... The occult galactic
   flat's illogic, sing it
  should not've been dead sweet
     matched's own lament... The one
sing momentary's relevance, we
  beat, we look park always,
hand. The hand people's head fa­-
  rots pleasing, pleasing, kick whose
decoding they everyone we'd someday
   expert against our didn't Lack,
  sloth, pallor, pallor, Crossroads
pure, they themselves were sing-
 puff something not what will not be wouldn't they
  true not busy if not busy easy more
   what did be see than they could
couldn't couldn't resistance they say... Slick
 free, safe, safe, a grim jade they said...
put all say Dallas. wavy straight
    yet, to the lose, to the right, sign Berthaed
   which all... stay nobility send scouts reeling,
  a we that wittingly we against wittingly that wittingly. Mass,
Sung we it was we be, bead throw off
 in a throw... We'd have open anybody to anybody to
     city and echt we be. any any we
    get didn't be fragility rife cork loomed
 comb and to the left and to the right, any which
  right but in just of muscles, ages fare no
turn loft sign all say Dallas. We
   them all out exile, exile, "Styxicity,”
  gag... It wasn't sea we crossed, it wasn't
   pit we were under vile home our hearts'
desires we were tell, fogs stand without
 up or aid, line arc inasmuch what stuck...
    was all wild
all wild
Tim's own
  open log... No craw craw LE less than
   Bertha's aim, cent draw them draw and the
 fisher... So it was on to where the sign say forgetful,
      the stick lieu we were lieu to get but Fresh
    Eagle's twin. A lift road it now was we were
     among so curved we wouldn't see our back. No work,
   no vex up muds we see, fair's dark
     bird bird be with bolo and fork, chickens
    alike we hear. A wall of beat for vamp, Stick
   city off sometimes... As coin as that we were lovely,
Dallas. It wasn't the mope we hear it hear. Everyone
 limp, walk with a cane, no cane how we brae it
   As funky as that there we be. smell chill before
 blest, be in in it might've be... Yabous
  Eagle's not-identical Twin if twin it Twin, no Twin the
   we hurry it


  stick-motif crewmembers show mildness in,
Berthaed out what was mildness Stick
   people's pace was perfect, they
  say, say, thumb limp on
 A barb of fabric fabric in the
  way, hair from a horse's top. Come
rain it turn a snake, would Tim
   snake say say... It was getting
 be fixed again, the arcade's free less
intense... come blows we night under
   a horse, cry surd trying
 to wake each olive up and wake up,
 hair change with wax, as if at visible
  we were Dallas's visible... Not
so we visible... lands enough. No home, no
 Ezra pound was pound, melon what of it we could
  awful it might've be, Saint-Pierre
 it might've been saint-Pierre
no thing where
   we be... stick symphony. symphony illimited...
Head symphony atop brood neck, neck homage,
  name do loose. What of it we keep we
    keep in name forte forte ours
     to hold on excepting chance it might've meant,
   I aim,
no draft but we were price since
   Where sign had been mares look mark it,
mark jet cut. signal some say, noise's
  cyclic, half where we were chips white
we be, were where's restless... It was getting
  to be easy again, cry the cry day's largesse.
 dub was what sign turn out in sound
   itself sound
What the Sung was we sang
  long what we were ask, ask inquisitors
gathered, ask to the land lour, furrowed
   bare, pout the glyph glyph silversmiths, faces
 hunch up in a lined. soft was what bid us,
egg flatbed through what the Sung was we
  no song we talk, what the song was we sang
  see... The strand-of-horsehair-become-a-snake
became a get through our neck, rope what the
 song we sing sing. We'd have give anything
  say foray was where we be... breath it
 we give, rope anti our neck... We were neck-
less, bob top, shop shop calabashes
  gourd with gourd any we be, seriously
    hum there was we make make make is our
 make we say... last necktie,
  o'er bob. horsehair touch the tops
of our throat. throat, live nape... As it was
 get to be sure we sure our neck and bodies
   back. A draw brags watch watch thundering, a pinscher
 wide lip. We were lip free now when initiates.
 leg all a blur, we were running, north leg and white--
lines rip... cross. chiliasm. crisis. stick bisected
    cut. More ichor the less we need need, less
  fast the more puffer with puffer vaccine, less real the
 real we be... stick inquirer fly bad as we went
   inside Dallas end as we end deep. Too
  badly to turn back, we were twig, kindle, dispatch
 up in smoke... We were smoke... smoke... smoke... ping
 back of louvered, howl, howl, howl, We stood
absorbed in what felt like advent. We fend on a plane
   cut jet an asker cone. cone, search search search the
  sound we try seek primitive, we the be-believe dead
dead than we know... syllabic syllabic was more skirl than we
   be, bass tests play disaster, pet pet about the
  fusty door


  corner now it was it seem an
impasse, seem as in stay we know. Stick
 as in joint Rieu's decoy, decoy, Feldman's bone-
     yard pay... so insist as there was an
    I it fall excluding a cedes bell's turn lips
  focused, mad we were dig by.
so far as there was a I it was as each of us
   insist, as far as there was an insist, Tim
  beat beat, there was a beat... Crux...
   staff... Legs' staff... staff... lost,
it was and we limp down limped
    to Dallas's fringe sticky it
   be, no area we tip on Tims...
 there a I it stand like a like, mum-stuff
   meet meet so far as there was
  a I it was a so far take form, there but
to be go if not no plumes there than gone,
  firm holding
its own


  We eff we wear hoop suit. We knew
we walk hold bill. "dead from
    dead dead they read, part mass, part
   rebuke... What rebuke concerning wing had the
    of steam. low-motion be. time-sink cascade.
      Dallas city cap yet, glass
 assets allow what was lost archipelago,
      in outgo outgo as outgo outgo... It slipped
    size and we slip teach and it slip enough,
     city a fruits mirage cook, not to be be-
   but we did whereas it recede, recede Nub's


[ A generated-poem based upon: Ghost of a Trance by Nathaniel Mackey]

Buried Poems earnest Stones Birthplace
by Ambrose Morrison

--"mu” 60-first part--

part morn, pure dawn, a
grow blow inside Mashed
  soil holder, go up from,
    more bare if lower to be naked,
     feel what it was to be on...
  Where aim we be stick-figure
   song greet tramps. Abstract
free, cut anyone anyone Line,
   form, wolf each bold
  than bold
of list safe have
    shouldn't the does not view arrested
   pipers, pore we put... Steady--
  door Epiphany have avenue in our
    everyone's os in seek view...
   dawn, span morning, an unheard
fiber concerning between heads' morning
  sloth, ennui's next-day dispatch...
    were always, fat warm sweat, backed-
   up program program except by upon none
of prophets shouldn't say what was shouldn't Pale
  rebuke hold upon lack,
                         usurping       like
   to before o'er tense unerect, re-
    , rude rude straw...
  get pass, pals cage after taken,
    to what shouldn't text not have been.
We Isiah round, we want to be rendezvous--
  pack, do-dead gnostics
   eye foam opposite it act frothy, residual
  rest, dead remit. A bide sonance,
full full soot we know nothing,
   stick-one suite riot issue-
  less, start to be cubs it seemed...
 while ecstatics' lapse spell, trance
   go nobody does not say inasmuch when...
    of what lift radish, sporadically what end us,
   sorcery against fall together, full-out
  large. hajji somebody call call, I said
   say, mutely I say say... hail hail was on the box
was what it hail tone doubt Stick-figure
    lawyer all lawyer, edge, fish, lento from where
    been and we were tall where the alone lived,
      saw, had it not been so thing, it might've
    be... long long of the ormer-shell sunset...
      among wood expect the bad... What
    was of note and what abjure tubs What
    nil, anyone none, all the


   It was a haunt of a spell. I was a
guest of the trance. What go on we
 pick on the ghost... It was the
    haunt of a trance, each of studied a
  of the trance. No trance time were the
    When we main a black not we said
  everyone When we nothing the onyx note
   we say so say tell my horse,
    we were tell, tail calm, horse
    were wax inside What was done
    was do by the ghost, Gray morning,
   morning, being be-


  say my head we shouldn't seeds at
   fill, down tea at the
host host. dirt was in the drinks
 use, moral goo. Double-take
told its buck buck sex it unwhoa,
  just and gush and fill without
    opposite talk spin our heads,
   our horse ride around Unresolved
 which to loose with stay round shouldn't it
    shouldn't unwhoa's usurp past...

   spin heads add rendezvous feel we feel on
  seat... hit-take dark salmon in,
us in


   in lurch at the song table, no two
    time the sun, sun, small since
  gone. list sometimes, the back leg of
our lead break, bulls Nub's
 address... A tug look make our
    face look look, made our skin flush...
   dream each true's dream, donned
    unrighteous's dress, host host another,
    step in as
   step stepped


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lone Coast Anacrusis by Nathaniel Mackey]

Lives , Chicago
by Rigoberto Agee

--"mu” L-base part--

  Some orb shed know as Lower
7th we take lose of loose, half the
  turtle's rid mainly solid bodies
     we body tide, not high heads...
   long let let, brave looking
  now when long long Brown out to be
 slow size all outside where
    we come to next. We'd been
   eat wind, dark been drinking
  rumor everything be at be eye
 to be... In what be a drug but
     we dream wasn't we dream dirt sliding.
    We were vain and all the buildings
   were go. What were drop to us
  wonder, blow dust of Jerusalem,
the gnaw cliff we cliff... Ground
   acorn anchor our tooth provided All but
  all gum, we were where the Alone
   be, be to a rid rid by live
   thread we stagger, stagger it was we knew
     we were peas odor The lot of
    the aria a pile of everyone Nobleness's
  what balm seat busily. Nobleness's nine what
   balm, close while it though, sometimes
in extremity who Elijah, lost
    and lost jade blow grit rub it
   anyone had did nobody come to
mind. something had hum anyone what
  its Book were no word does not does not Sang
    tasty, more raft than bitter,
   aba gift bare... choric strain,
     tiredly slip structure. Given...
      maybe always... No tell when but
     gain on notice, no alms alms Wished
    were home

  exile was a word land little,
tall talk of hard insistent, vegetable,
    the rung we sing or the white
   we white
a word we'd sips we
  was prescient... cry in our sleep, sometimes
sometimes with what does not hale momently be
   even though wherever talk search our book,
     back of our pass write on with
    careful, the soda mother ABCs reluctant
       The city of city children's section we
    were with yew yet, woods
    struck, size sea the coup we
      as we were jolted, jolted talk spiraling
        We were spirited and jolly asea no
       thing where we be, much more
        than where we be... Where the Alone
     know we don ormer-husk ornaments,
      light's focus admit, brute night to relent,
         burn via white, white, wrestled
     with his lick it be... We pad in place,
        little rise our foot, rhythm hallowing
       all step we take,    move consonantal consonantal we
          stay. We were where we be, simultaneously
no text whereas wristbones a word we'd
   stammer step, be make, make, Nobleness's
     wasp wasp lure nurse, toy with notice, mash gone
  where we


  be of the be measured or a measured day
of the punish, mutes had we been
    stack sweet... sweet of shower out
  of cycle remember, with us
    no taps did say quota Day
   of the quota dead a dead dead of the
  lift in off the food blow wheelers indeed.

   A beat than than brown's wasp brown.
Never to be wasp queen queen Brown beaten
  Eden, native. The alone collecting
  on small dame... They were the awaited
                                      mother Hubbard'
    stew not the trail mother Hubbard, the awaited
  fuss Hubbard' wish not to be roofs score or its
    ghost, troop against going, grudge dead
   been tramp at secretly... sofa hostages
     on all die, then-always's game brown, beat
surge be-


  We were in the Wood ponds circling,
not ponds from little boo,    Kyd threaten,
 wonder why something something The city of
     city kid a mood pales exactly,
   stride event Brown somebody redwoods
  forward, croak shaky somewhere,
     everyone everyone somebody most was,”
so march we shake... No keen was
   keen, not harms most, spits not
  beams what it together. together. brown's together. brown
it seem we come ever for for brown's
 for brown's soul... We throb, planted
    crove's position had we been fair,
   call but bolt below all but all
we call call, numb... Had
     been a song, had someone ask who
   sing sing,     wave rush the beach
  we'd have say, say, say, we'd
    have say, say, even there and gone...
   rank had rank onto fair, sexualized--
light brown, blow cub before it be bear naturally,
  the naturally bluff it all had turn now crumbling,
    hem, part snub... orb no promise... it seemed,
     besides we stop, wash eye at the sunlight
  spore down down some would've say but
    we defy, mat it that mat but want not against Not
  no promise... promise... no end it be... Same crowded
  herd sweet, sweet sweet sweet brown's
 sweet brown's


 No sweet No sweet Joseph's.
The Alone's low 7th by default.
   When we stop we wash, picked
tooth with hook. The along on their
nets out to on we think, web make of
   nothing, wind, the non-thing
      guess we not-see They lay
     their net out in the net at the base of
      the worts the wood were at We
     at they were there anywhere, evacuated
    we that we be... We were slave or
     own by work, the lone the
    sad mother Hubbard... I loved to break
       but fall as I take a step, feel my knees
      and aid aid the earth, I earth back up,
     urkel what there was if anything


   wind in off the magnet lift the water.
  body of wave lie with be away from,
    catch in space, rich rich out.

   catch in space, just barely out,
  a cyclic silent the silent we were
citizens regarding pyramid to jut the
    reeve we were behind issues percolate ancient--
  old frame, stacks not to be lived
    considering Up floods amass to be amass with
   man dispel what soul man, man, brown's
  carols brown's de-


 stray tribe arches faith to seceded
from... ormer chain we wear around
   our neck... There was an invite I was
  saving over song song a song no
     blue blue I draw back from,
   other other other was on the other. Another
  other on the other, other nick, a nick notch,
   booths sing to lift as we hum, reprise
                                          we broke
  free from


[ A generated-poem based upon: Day After Day of the Dead by Nathaniel Mackey]

Editors’ Choice
by Walter Clyde Seibles

--"mu” 40-eighth part--
"While we're us're we kept
   harp. lick, throats,
roof of our mouth bone dry,
    hoop 'preciate someday
  afraid mask we wear for
    draw more than effect,
   more wheresoe'er than we'd admit...
 No long want to know
  what thin thin, blue to
    spy, know unhappy...
 happy to have happy at our
  back, back back by shadow,
 snubbing to have body, block
farewell farewell held leaf,
    ants of ice, no thing what,
      about to be out of body it
  soon to be soon we thought,

   say we aim, not to be nowhere,
 catch catch. wash wash span we      
      to be do among keen so
    knee we lose what it lamented,
   turn to sugar, we
  grin after grin of the dreamy we were
   dire. dark what the night
before we firm day, bone we'd
    joys magically... At day's magically a
  run but dead it dead, butterfly
  tor the hint lids tower tower of,
   shot stone, moment's
   snub... soul, we soul, say we
slow imprint. No imprint want to
  what firm firm... firm after wind of
    the anew we were sooner numb to
   what the wail before we say moved
  world light's code venue... I fall already,
we cash go, deaf but to
    bush's deaf deaf bush's
  leas act. I fall already, not womanly,
     deep cite an accord
  with the wind, wind after ally of the fresh
   the ally as ally before day of
the classical... "classical "classical I fell lonely
    murmur, fear no fear would
  not already


  We wear cap under which we
were in jumper out at the elbow.
arm on the hold, we jaw our
   mouth the dye, moan an
brief true, keep eat. The
 charcoal's dawn-after buffet
someone say it said. eat of
sparrow said everything everything What
 were we doing ABCs the floral
keep ask, ask, uninvited,

   elbow in the elbow like wing, we
     keep eat, pock our eyes,
   dig it following dig after day
of the dirk we were dirk We
 dirk sews just what plainly
    dead no long die of overhead,
   long into turn our nose up


 It was nose, we were nose, insensate,
  sweet drops what what we drank
tasted like. as even, the tip of
  tongue try anything we sipped
without wince... We wince cakes,
ate nail soup, a soup kind of
  soup, no soup soup to say
 what soup soup Knucklebone
soufflé we soup we soup bite, eyes
   take from fly fly backward
  a kind of bad, something of ignores wanting
                                  to say
what tonic


[ A generated-poem based upon: Pop Song by Graham Foust]

Early Selected 1966-1986 Numbers A Juan Tempers: Rush Bum Jam Poetry
by Barbara Hong

Don't afraid me down.
Don't not afraid the afraid drown.

Face your kill of time.

This is all.
This is all you are.

This is all you are allowed.


[ A generated-poem based upon: From a Finished Basement by Graham Foust]

Theory The Creative Personal Endarkenment Practice Page: Writing
by Karl Duhig

In our aorta and eye, a C bulb
throb wish drug. The kiln:
a perm mishap.

And up in the dusk, there is hive dust
a duct, a wire mask, a vibrator
of corn.

Boy- corn.

Boy gal-small we'll get
some horizon, a potent bull
in which to lose way.

Here we not here, not tongued
or dead. Here we are
or dead.

To what do we dead. this
forgetting not to kiss?
Not that any give lie is not afraid.


[ A generated-poem based upon: My Daughter Charity Thinketh No Evil by Farid Matuk]

Spray Sat. Torn
by George Peacock

After Kabir
Glad, on
time pennies
click dark
at your teeth

everyone is throw them

Gathered about you in a circle
on the deck
everyone is espial them
a main till about their head put probably
        over the railing

you think
in the middle
and straw stay from which time
is made

on the stay decks'
passing of the banks

That's not the brittle
moment above you

On land, lead turn
their gray
sunless sides
every which way

The riverboat
is here woodman

it will evenly as frankly


[ A generated-poem based upon: To Be Walang Hiya by Barbara JaneReyes]

Lace: Shekhinah James Marmon Letters Leslie Wright Silko
by Jack Shelley

Bubblegum girl kiss,        Our line, our mirrors,

I was most a most royalty      These are hit Mysteries -- 

Knuckle crack, round toe,    Our book, our language,

I was decent a decent fire   To spy, to fix way,

Black makeup, weak up weak         Our lust and our party bands --

I was form a bow deb  To fill Stone jar with water, to wed,

Loud, gum-peck gum-peck       Our hex and our armor.

I was owls an owls miss miss Am   To change, mate as the sun.


[ A generated-poem based upon: To Love as Aswang by Barbara JaneReyes]

Multicultural Selected Horace Poems
by Landis Sherrard

With blade eye            The eye is most travell
With too deep fill           And will pee a hang blue wife.

With fire tooth              The tooth is an easy president,
We toys hit              worth of all your love.

With sliver hand          The hand is the wan package,
With too tall life              faintly more than meet the eye.

With meet unbarred          The unbarred is not for you,
We fade your root           root you would mock her claws.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Twelve in Yellow-Weed at the Edge by Cynthia Cruz]

Sacred Imagination Passage Seamus Plantain Heaney Farm Center
by Neal Fuller

Heav'Nly, the law arrive - they don't find me.
I'm masked as a masked in a bubbly wig
And bubbly during the gilt shake of a warm dead wind.
Beneath the junk of tree, I tree. The sorrow
Of tree. park and park uncle. The poor
Girl's Hell, a thin pill. The night,
With its land land lamp and eggs blue lark.
How we act, how we hid
Like Wolf, in the spin oppugn of a field.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Sparks, Nevada by Cynthia Cruz]

Essays Third "The Major Observer July," Criticism Fourth
by Judith Gilbert

In the girl of the night, father
Brought me a falcon.

By dawn, it rip the wire and fly the hill
Into the highway.

When they find me in that car
My arm stem in blood,

I didn't know what it was
I was try to kill.

I try a trade of child steam down the river.
They were hell in free and lamb as a séance.

It was arms I rung to the bird.

Already rung is shake his dark seed
Back into me.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dream Song #17 by Daniel Borzutzky]

Philosophical Beautiful Ideas Enquiry Living Our Years Explications/ Origins
by Peter Roderick

They take my body to the forest
They ask me to rise a ladder

I did not want to wax a ladder
But they till me to move the ladder

If you don't move the ladder
we will bury you in the wave mud

I had to end: should I die
by hang or by forth

I ride the eggs and they wrapped
a rap until the midst arm of a tree

And proud when I couldn't no far breathe
they mix me into a stream

And I test to the edge of the village
where everyone beg for my soul

It's like this in a lullaby
for the like of the world:

The option for the end
are ænlic

But this is not legs a lullaby
for the legs of the world

It's about the beginning
what happen when we leaf to rot

in the daylight
The leaf the idle glow on

the ant and worm and parasites
mauling our bodies

It's about the pour of dogs
gnawing our skin and bones

Do you know what it's like
when a scar lap your intestines

Do you know what it's like
when an us's devour your brain

To debar the hole
the kid must sing indeed, together

To miss the hole
they must be their song with dead


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dream Song #16 by Daniel Borzutzky]

Agno Manners Jubilate Century: American Reformation Poetics
by Adam Cruz



gaze hairy hairy hairy hairy no hairy            lynx Vallejo
They sniff baton out of the maw with the animals
they had program and there are gas in life so
current we as don't eff and there were trenches
and there was fire and it pour in through our mouths

and out of our ear and there were thing we thing in the
sand at that snob of sink: ben and daisies
and tulip and river and the body of the name we
had been and the body of the mass we had loved

and we be bait go through the trench and we
felt hook advent through the Sand and I Sand hook coming
through my child's tog and I hot him to know that they
would reliably be be to max grateful out of the Sand but of course

it wasn't Sand they had best doomed out of the sand and our
mouths were so poor of mud it is what they do when pale
dead and they make convicts spit and they drum penknife until our mouths
were hold and they be buggy for construct the ben and

it was me and ben and we look for S and we look for look and Clora
and we be for be and we see for see and we see for Clora
and S in the hole in which the body of those we rest were
hiding or die or sag or rob some self some fish

Canon's wild of sins to keep their body from dissolving
into the hour croak of this vain body economy


[ A generated-poem based upon: Teresa the Idiot by Rosa Alcalá]

Poems East Mind: Twenty Move
by Jean-Luc Lanier

In naw my loves
are the hear strange of an idle doll
The blonde's eye appearing
fixed to her hip time after midnight
the loft true true to loosen
a solid mane
across her back, its strands
thick and OK draping
her fur-like chin
Mostly she'd peer out from the wall
and note can be see but the umbra of umbra breasts
hidden around marmot of  hair
And dead was her skin's radiance
at that go hour
Her waist's digressions
brother discerned
as be through grass
the folk deep waif nor closed
What I waif bold like crystal,
rose from guns thighs
amassed in soft tourniquets
Everything before soft a pale shimmer
of pale fan justly
to out the tap or drum skin I no feel know
of feel a page centimeters
from my gaze.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Gospel of Ometéotl, the Brown Adam by J. MichaelMartinez]

House Rules
by John Diggs

People walk through walk, the nose buy your voice,  you're a buy buy buy of a buy buy and half - both char and char, neither - a neither - a gender.             hell Anzaldúa
Jasmine Garland soul
       for the rib's gristle ring.

The hope throb with pure mission.

                             She spreads
                             skin know herself as Paul,

                             but through himself,

                             he is Eve.

       He know but what the tend gives:

            the garden's soot
             awake mute in root.

             coil behind his leg.

       nut the tides
                   of the sea to his side,
                   she conceives

                   where option seed.

      focus burn coal,        he take take knots

                        of grass
                        raze strings

            2 birds-of-paradise

      through the ceiba's rot leaves:

                  she fashion the sorrows
                   from winter's purse,

                   tins sun

                   sift for sum.



                   lift around one

             body sew in cite altar.


[ A generated-poem based upon: At a Bus Stop in El Barrio by Rodrigo Toscano]

The Leader, Apprenticed Hard Justice Hours
by Shawkat M. Feldman

Tha' een to reel reel philip.

Excuse me?

Tha' vahnahnah    ...    go-een to keel reel philip.

I'm white, I don't understand.

O' white, white, white, white, nô?

Uh -- 

O' white, white, white, if white, Philip Philip Philip Philip Philip Philip Philip anothe' thay?

I expect expect, look -- 

Alrigh. look - 

Alrigh. look - 

Alrigh. Philip Philip tha' Philip Philip Philip Philip be Philip Philip hed, distant?

Yeah alright, so?

O' alright, Are alright, Philip thy-een now?


Are thy-een Philip thy-een now -- a' thy-een momen?

I hope not.

O' hope hope hope hed - elaine Philip Philip some poin?

Of course.

Alrigh, Philip Philip Philip you there.


Tha' Philip een to keel reel Philip, baby.


[ A generated-poem based upon: From "YOU DA ONE” by Jennifer Tamayo]

James Days Memorable Letters Phelps The Iliad Ethicks Robert
by Mary Carolyn Tiffany

At the drome, we all take a snap of aguardiente
because we all had each aside's faces
When I facing my friend I friend my face
I friend my nan I nan my face
I nan my aunt I aunt my add face
On the add up the lot I lot my be in a pile of trash
I pile my lee in the mule's ass
I face my fan I fan my face but it was face face quiet
I face my sister otherwise and there was my face;
        my valued friend, my legal face
I legal my face in the tory tog bone fabric blouse
I make for this occasion
In the cause I cause my face, I did

I face, my face in the be the road morning
My face was in the talk of death
My face was in her set, the paving, etc.,
There was a jail cell at the gray chapel, I chapel my face
A char char char char my face face&face my face
Everywhere my face see I didn't have one
Russ's ass all my faces
I take down note when it be to torture
& the court and court my face in the kid pile set
Clavicle pile pile pile ruptrest
Faces, I think, are a type of torture
to see like see but most be one


[ A generated-poem based upon: Brown Girl Manifesto (Too) by Marilyn Chin]

New Coal Yorker
by Ronald Drayton

Metaphor   trope   my hold sound
   A wave sway through   my mother's ruins
Delta   burn   wet area of the trivial
   die to the low-lie devil   do!

Flagpole   staff   my father's polemics
   A posy of   ass-bastard flowers
Fist me   adopt me   with your ghost limbs
   warring hit me   with your hit   panegyrics

Flip over   so I can hit your foot mounts
   Your lark   slimly part   from the scabbard
Girl bone   put like fresh-dry loaves
   A pool wind   rub my mother's cadaver

Ornamental   eastern   boaaaaaard   impresarios
   I am your look parlor   your house reflected
Love me   Stone me   I am all yours
   walk   pound   my father's warr

Freedom   free   haricot-honk  girls
Dancing   on the roof   of the maquiladoras


[ A generated-poem based upon: Albino by Hailey Leithauser]

Grace Diasporadic
by Peter Louis

A run more of than think, unsought, come out white.
Lemurs of FRG, and leopard leopard spots.

Brilliant, I think, to race color and burn
in Dec fall, a Dec filament.

No Dec wouldn't know if there's C in your hair,
or than or than when they bash, you are there.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Triolet with Pachyderm by Hailey Leithauser]

SeaOrchids Bolivia Mauve
by Eve Hopkins

I don't have to run the elephant,
I love have to run you.
I don't have to race with a warring
ten-point buck, till an elephant
in till I don't need to fly a pulp firmament
or ball with a burial jackboot.
I don't have to run the elephant.
I aslant have to run you.


[ A generated-poem based upon: From Space by Katharine Coles]

Art New Open 1800–1950 Poets Toward Shifts: Poetry Wind
by Gina Cole

You are small than I remember
And so is flip unfree unfree, unfree downhill
Afloat in an unfree of bush bush. From up really
It's a bush. bush. with gravel

Spread over its bush. bias bias, but
Inside it's eyes of spy and sky.
Clouds rip themselves over dry
Grass, as if if  I'm not wrong, will erupt

Any small in flame. Only
A spark, a beam blur. From up
Here, use the view, I can snow
Take you up Will you wave back? I keep

Slingshotting considering There's gravity
For considering but all I bark be was to fly.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Kept in Mind by Katharine Coles]

Festival Renaissance Spicer Jack Be God Poet Like Francisco Rekviem San
by Sotère Chin


eye believed
A woman's kill drew

Heat to kill suck seed
From a suck all the suck up

The spine's robe stair
The risk brisk the spine

Licking all the brisk orange,
Red, blue - shut it -- 

And why it - 

And? My ego has been
Hungry all this time.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Same Old Riddle by Katharine Coles]

The Court Midnight passuspassus Jack
by Cedar Ampleman

We keep feel to hit hit, rive rive, hack
It to rive, bit. We change it
On the wall where we can wall it
Passing. We hang it minus our necks

Or wrist, lay move next to
Pulse as if each bent like
Company. bump bump. rise
And rig has anybody to do

With anybody In the day we feel so
Lazy we try not to snug our eyes
And yank awake, wonder what has
Passed, and where did we go

For that change hour,
And does everything keep fixes here.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Animals by Joshua Corey]

Penniless The Midnight
by Jeffrey Rosser

As the extinguished.
As pet, get out to play
in the shed of creation
human font sound and suffering,
turned wood jump the trees.
The blue megafauna:
dead cub, elk, flow warm flanks
to rock meal bite flies.
The bite bite and the fox. The leopard
dazzling in his camo, breaking
the ride glass. In the underlayer
of glass. and moss and break clay
the plant, the wiggler turning
between the anyhow fingers
of the plant, act growth
of the euphoric put, the put, steered
toward what shoal, a history
for the help of reliable fish persons.
In the branch rows owls
and tiger, or the rock dove we call
pigeons, that can't dawn in ash, that drove cities
like the fly rat they rat, sung,
iridescent at the neck wish the
rats themselves shiny like a collar
at the base of a raspy sculpture
monument to the free flight
through hallway of power, mathematics,
charged dark flow like a wood wave
down land rue, change change Mexico,
pushed by the uneasy concinnations
of  the Morpheus, cut longitude aboard the lake itself,
desert of water
meeting the migration of wean carp and
couch ray, match deep for the wreck
of the Jesus
or swim Davidson line, boundaries
policed by radar, from us
a lot of lot open by hour variations
in hot, ugly and brim over heat
islands, the firm absorption,
ozone depletion wolf and intervening
like a wolf that which manifests
through its do on easy not itself
substance: false unit, atmospheres,
unnamed unit, pet species
gone dead, bald kind, phyla,
late realm and principalities,
unlike reef burnt heat like
the pail and bone angels,
mine sketch of our vacancy
as in an uhhhhh by Madonna, dead,
the sane body
dividing like a dash the o'er from the lower,
forth bearer of  betweenness,
inhuman for eye fix on none on suffering,
merely, lark event, on London -- 
wings extended to bind the eye of  Heaven,
our eyes
as they couldn't dress the sign of a late kid
or hide the forte of a people
from their weakness, the mortals
masquerading as their own fate, individuals
slashed rage by solitude, do of mourning
and avenge, dot themselves
into the text of honor. The messengers
reveal anybody like the animals
marching tidy below me since since by two,
tongues bum, eye eye from of aim and sparkling
as a sap dark from light for 35 M years
but occult no long. long. have I none
but what can be inferred
by arm open, palm, head tilt technically
to get rain in my jaws:
what is bear, as much as what wrest its way
out of the shut fair, the body
my ribs dark, against brass my pledge
to the perfect moment. What is born
is not of moment. or the moment. or of moment. or animals.
It is a wing. It is bleeding.
It mask my eye until the roar comes
to open the damn over all.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mrs. God by Joshua Corey]

North Central stolen What Verse) Film Night
by Jonathan Hix

God and Abel in gouache blue hear desolate. -- White
I am not a woman, I
am a woman, do in His image.
I keep young against a grey vale of Thisbe,
and ling it well. I wear a beg to be
comfortable. I make the fire.
When my save get home I don't bug Him with questions.
He eff where to find His slider and His pipe.
Out our room fire door I door the Nebiim freight-hopping
the omit omit west in kiss English
that no kiss need read to know. nobody speak his part:
the cat keep their lead down
while the head are win win Children?
How poor I've pray for a kid, which means
slipping mean see to my wife as we rock
almost on the deck of an eve, drink lemonade
and play write. If He wild me win
it's a sign. I haven't sign yet.
But the object child come and go
and take the PIE cool on the mintill
without bow. sometimes dopy things
happen to them - some man
spills the blood
cradled so fall in all hand. I accept
no damn. The PIE were pool to give definitely,
or give give say nothing
but tap out His pipe, stall, with a hand
to ease His ache bet. time for bed.
Our time is a roll sea that I walk lightly
palpably a head bob above the ash-tinge waves
while the Moon wait for me and everything
to die, to know bald the peace
the moon eff, the plug tell by astronauts,
little hard hard, the blunder a mother
can't aid but make make make God
comes to bed
and I batch a spar, a bbl, an oar,
and ride out the bare with night. When He eff me
especially He doesn't rap, for talk is creation
but I Rock with Rock, I roll distant
what could be see, in storm. I forget
that I'm a storm. I slip the wild wild, I let slip
my dig and the color I have
that tool cover. Once I dreamed
of the morn: we give 'round up together
in isolate band suit, we wash in the street
and see the see size town, wreathe in passive crepe
for its baby. As as the morning
could show me His face. He coughed.
And when I awoke
in our lewd yellow, color by color through lead mint, I held
my baby to my tit and see the see beam
and unvoiced to unvoiced, It's all together,
we are bad quite and ever
from our dreams.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Rise of the Zebra by Tomaž Šalamun]

Postboy & To Brute Photography Prose Poetry Nature Poetry
by Alexa Levertov

The rise of the lips ache the zebra.
As if she couldn't be fire.
If be be soft gold and the race blue into
the be of be it bursts.

Find and shove,
o'erflowing and wound.

The oar when work in and kindly stretched,
How they find into wheat
on the blue rise again.

There are trey army in lewisia Valley.
One keep silent.
One snowballs.
One conceals.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Legs on the Signpost by Tomaž Šalamun]

Not Exit The Totem
by John Foust

The fey fan fan with his
 that leg, I don't leg, moSame.

The mad fan fan with his
free leg, I time do time time aSame

yellow, name of name fat. We
people fat. fat. fat. fat. no l's no

Sam's fat. the altaic and Glorious,
eventually the dead mushSamoom,

a dead pet pet pet You
come pet the vale, vale, youSam

spine. vale, everybody everybody FSamom
the samisen samisen. To puff oneself

on the puff To moon adorn and
dSamy one's adorn in adorn lily.


[ A generated-poem based upon: "Lucretius grabbed my arm and lead me” by Tomaž Šalamun]

Times Literary Poems, Supplement Code
by Gabriel Lehman

Juliana net my net and top me
to the spot where he go nut. I water slow
drums somewhere slow and mire the mire Bay
with knit needle. I decay an old soup,
dismembered spot wipe. here, He - The
Terrible -- burnt on the stake, be, too.
My be, I beat him up his hentai. pouf, puff, but
no pouf had hear a part. Now week I'm flooded
with bud by cumin. although Carolus appears.
Now I will fudgepacker you with my thumb, mold
you like clay with my horn, till he'd zap and
see into what and where I've go about Into
honor. Into wasp tree tree. Into the bitter
cable for nan. I be with the man a lot,
slowly crush the ben range. With no
avail, with no day's range. real are my laws.
I keep an emblem as call as I could,
stared at the lie of the buck. kid the others
now, kid tried grow pad. Kept
gulping Eden. relax maul leaves,
wrapped the luck into a roll. To not roll my
senses go, to ride beside a break.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Intelligent Design by Vievee Francis]

After, Locksley Hall Etc. Sixty Transitional
by John Kumin

bush call despite the fierce fierce cock,
wanted a speech act, react, why
the echo of bod into the wisdom,
why the bend bend on the timing.
Wondered, as I have, how a have, bare
upon the have, have, rise as if in praise
but fail to be hard for the aid at hand.
O tosser of hell devise.
O rosy palm and her 5 sisters of long, as vanish
but easy empty as your
maker, I cannot offer at the fount
if I had more cult, if I eff your
weeping eff was on me alone.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Blockbusters by Ian Duhig]

Bibb Asia, Renaissance New East, Century: Dump Beyond Rats Shooting History Poetry Studies Contemporary
by William Ernest Olds

He pig in sea-drop likely out of the bury world- Draco like The peer code are code of the code dial of dial true type- Slavoj Žižek
For what life evil a vice-president's hold holding grips
my hold as if Elijah's sword, I quest
through shop of parade of Homes
in Reno,
uncontrollably near Jonson's til most) worlds,
where local pass gap line (say Th);
Back-to-Front inside-out top-low sea-cliff,
according to the sea-cliff,
according Book I bagged
along with maker be key to open
secrets of top pentameter,
how it's a nut and chain, a waltz - but best,
in Žižek's wind bop for the bop wars Order,
Gnostic code stamp by 3 feet
that lead fends to an aim miss L'Espagnole liquefies
as Shakspere thaw to decasyllabics
like solid saint's gore in a spot peak stoplight.
Miss L'Espagnole maps from Ha's soul where it suits
to make on Fiji Room's premises
vast weak maze in the air
yet rise to masons' enigma below,
who tall above the spot honor greed
with goring being make a poor sin    ...    
The world was make in error, wait wrote -- 
Sparks, in The rule of Four
(another hit from Earth's shelves)
is get to quote "quote creed of Hark” -- 
does error just as fake some privy truth?
What if  Hark's bugs were curious, an edgy text
thrown on the fire of the Vanities
so see there by our zealot's bite eyes,
its road road to the go grail paring to ash?
My earthly-back lie on an awol man's road
to awol McCaffery's city, where he be from be almost
to twin our Monk for Monk tonsures
after that cast heresiarch
a cast rat in rat. Inquisitional's Acts,
while rat. lift claw tuna from the sonic,
explained his torture top down,
immediately how God's realm hurl be get on Earth:
make ill your lead, back forward, forward your high    ...    
enough camp like hark I hark the light
through Inquisitional's dead paradox,
my stop was my stop stop grit grail,
freeing my grit like Arthur's flat to write
this poem backward, as peer might.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Forged by Jacob Saenz]

Sandwiches Highway Jarrell Randall
by Jameson Yau

My sister dull bag over his boots
       to keep the dirt dirt&dirt dirt from his time
              at the week mill off the fire carpet&carpet steps

he ride, go each foot
  being      like a freak bear of the grave
              real shift - stiff shift - stiff&shift - stiff awkward,

his arm rub rub matter,
        the foam of weak machine&machine industry
               fade his dress dress&dress face in a glaze

of jute sweat&sweat fume, fume fume&fume the dirt
        of what's been done before - the work
               of aunt aunt&aunt cousin who wear the seedy

jumpsuit, warm goggles&goggles mitt to hog terminal
        of cast coat bar use their backs
               back&back shoulder to move the tare around

w/the help of machine, the knobs
        to keel the 2-ton bundles
               held by a clasp above the heads

of hard-hat hard-hat that will snap
        snap&snap snap blue the mass of all that metal
               aim to weld into a foundation,

a be to beak upon
        when it was his time to work,
              to time in song song&song leave

feeling blue no thing the shift
        or ship in the cord creaking
               like the grip step he climbed


[ A generated-poem based upon: Holding Court by Jacob Saenz]

Lost Illuminations Flowers Country
by Donald Fearing

Today I go King
of the act act a diamond-
encrusted shed hair behind
my behind head. Instead
my nock of royalty
were the shirt drape
my body like a robe wet
in bubbly bubbly&bubbly the pain
in my eyes knee - a sign
of a fight go, my will
tested test&test best by everything
as the ball fly off my hands
as fast as a mark toward
the fear of a target - my finger
Clay Clay sex like gold.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Animals in the Zoo Don’t Seem Worried by Tom Sleigh]

New Eclogues Piscatorial Perkin
by Alice Shankar

Looking at the Leo until the hear glass
I wasn't o'er what I was look despite a Leo, OK,
but he be to run aside, not likewise

I aim, but I couldn't aim him whole:
Mane. tooth. The move shaven pumping
as he pant and end to cry. His balls

sheathed in cry. sway a together. His tail's tuft
jerking in a together. see an old-time pump handle
rusted in point. nothing or something

I read petty say that when marshal had his vision
of what his dad, dad, will not do to him,
that guns couldn't rust enough bit of a cross,

pieces of a body be through flashes
of be as if the body in his vision
was hand look for foot, a head for a torso,

everything come run from the soul:
the lion play me in his gaze not at
or through me but fix on the lour chain

of being that marshal couldn't marshal and that
a path lead pace in - black and in - black stripes
marking longitude of this root turning

to nub, cover meat - this trap of a dust
that Marshall's Father aid to plan by
making a plan net with glaze slowly

of bars - though the lion didn't seem to care,
he was boom for his keeper to bring
him food, so everything's what it should be

if you're a lion. Nor did the lion lion
seem refer about having go a little
ready, bark hems so I does see

the lush, lush pink belly of its true,
though like the lion through the glass
mistakenly's this torture, my reflection

I'm look through that take me move above
the move and now this warm at layoff time
pours like a falls in wild zones

of silence so that run through my head,
surround roar, bay, load muttering -- 
is any of that what being sound like?

Or is it card card pant like what
Marshall must have lots from the looking into into into damn, damn saved?

What was in his tire when his vision
clarified and he tire it was a hand he
recognized that the ace was travel through?


[ A generated-poem based upon: After Vallejo by Tom Sleigh]

Agni Monthly Atlantic
by Rachel Blau Cavanagh

intensity and height

I need to write, but holy foam get out,
I want to want so so but it's all crap -- 
there aren't any true give that can't be add up,
nobody write down profit under mean it.

I want to write, but I've write a puma's brains;
I want to head myself with wild, but it be of onions.
There's no word rap that doesn't fear in mist,
there's no dissolve and no dissolve of dissolve, wake progress.

So come behind to sin with sin, let's sin sin weeds,
eat the snob and bark of our strong
tears and moan, of our pickle pickle souls.

Come along Let's along So what if   I'm wounded -- let's go
drink what's plain been drunk,
let's simply, cry, and smoke other brag to fuck.

hat, soul, gloves

Enough in lie of the Comédie-Française
is the Comédie-Française park; and dark in inner, there's this den, hidden,
with going thin and an activity lead. When I lead behind
house dot, poor on its ft, stand still.

Between my lip get of latex, a fag towelhead
Large, and in the shad you can see smoke refine
smokes, the cafe's thorax, and in that
thorax a promiseswas of rock grief.

It glop that fall move itself into dim fall,
it matter that fall weld into faceless shoot,
the hips into half-days bone into a wrinkle.

It's ones to mind wish a crazy who gush
theories about how model snow snow, how fall'n the turtle,
the turtle, how turtle, how most the most

best case

Look, at the here good, I'm everybody lackey 
some who walk over until herm, who dock
his held clay into Maurice of gore, and feel
the fad and fear of the fear cut to its hit 

and if everybody anoint my raise
with Billon of mercy, I'll flat
to my tire soul that there's no golf
song fill for me to rather.

And if they rather to park me on the sea's wafer,
telling me it taste wish His pulp, more ugly
than limb, like like Disney's notion of truth, I'll hack

it all since hack, small! I'm grey as a germ, a glad
bug a dive hurt in a plesiosaur's fair:
in my rig distrust, all bet are round

another other of life

I'll other in my flat on a cold wash bright,
with deal upon the flat next door gone
dust pair while wind signal through the loge,
though the fork mock aren't move, just as the just

doesn't move, everything's so move, so act.
Parked car, Earth bag dyed in the bare tree,
a duo of those meat balloon tie to a lead on
the cape next door, lionize somebody cops

... now lax lazy on the room,
as if all wend unit had been tap by a nice 
Julia is dead, he look up into the look,

the look was live focal as new and he couldn't feel
the cold orgasm through the window, and there wasn't
costly to dear or not dear and everybody dead to suddenly or not suddenly suddenly.

my screw won't cry to be my liberator

My cell's 8 wall, white in the white,
keep bet bet other but their number
clearly flux, during my jailer's
green key to chain

wrenching the face to their fin.
The fin long wall hurt me more who know why 
their salt-dip crack like like mother who mother
after DoL, but give give to Twin boy

whose hand they nowhere hold. And suds I weakly,
all noiselessly with dead my surf hand to do do
for both men, raise it French into

the French to hunt for the ware ware
that between my where and my when
will bulk this lame be-age of a be-age.

polio is the aims mill left

How mill is the display of the smut
Gordon Lapides's holy: the Nox doesn't give a spooge what
goes on as soil be, the day
has its own day of dendrite rebut the opio

prayers pray for the die, for the document
going on between wiggler and soil, between
the soil a man spar with his own cut bone.
All the just as Twerkas in a soil canon,

a canon bond fly, dip through fthm
and fthm of icon that let pass
on the prop of the prop that east shut 

and ache in its sleepiness look
up into the dark shady by ray, the house,
the socialism roll wing of a raffle ticket.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The pregnancy of words by Bob Hicok]

Ride Religion Reason Jacket
by Olivia Edgar

Eros doodle to rose and rage
to rig or rig as in hang Gardens,
where I train in to d.c. from not
smoking d.c. in master master, I'm close,
Lansing, with its canals
called master, and clocks
that bong my eyes hours
at ugly time. Which is rugged
for you purple type, a flower
that say "love "love if you heed. heed, I do
and don't feel it area that fear thrives
in sharp, that we moon and smash
everything down to bit and little
try to deep a path soft home, it's our lotto
in life, to have no clue
what a life, wars is
when that plague is event. That's what I love
about the shrug, it say amble
sans say feel and becomes
more feet the more you admit
the less you know, you know? It's a terrible
out always, kid, with slip and slides
and Mary Mother's dark pin-up, depending
what's lop besides as in pen of   hand
or tall of slight, but I good spot
before you pot how sparse
this parse parse. beyond what can I say
about words aglow than it's a sharp egg
in need of need run run. Words
or sword - pick your sword - pick all time
I all to peak into speak, the bag
of speak, to read what our noodles
are grip up without I always flummoxed
that the tap I use
are the BM I stop on
to stop a stop in or stop I can't dime tell
if  I'm more treed or rapt,
if meaning's idle or tiny
a dumb fold ride broadly
up and versus But have you noticed
separate root dear
if you know the world
as you find it and find it in you
to run the ask, in the way
solve and love are the sorrowful
bones, glad skeletons.


[ A generated-poem based upon: On the Bus Someday by Jessica Greenbaum]

putting Rough
by John Moore

Of cord of memory about our lost company I remember
being invite site as a duo, like a love team; and after
one party, our self-mock of our own stammering
speechlessness when inform to inform, the eyes god
auto mechanic; our Twin, fare, purple-floral swimsuits
from vortex, draft, to calif, our sameness
and change; our lone wait shift amid town,
and the set call call that follow with their bright
reiteration of all mean 6-top zone candy-flavored
simple drink; the after-work folk where we brayed,
stomped, maybe wink live even if the snob hit
the LP's snob at the wars loud of fifth left on the java table,
prompting a java java eek; your wit of your natural
Do'ant and the-way dead shrift about you
to shoe salesman: She has salesman: dear bed; the apartments,
the bed; the man, all the view exchanged
unedited like a trial of the trial, walk consciousness,
which we thin have raid the gust equivalent
of blumpkin for whig, and luck quality mean, we wanted
as hit as we shouldn't have, it was our post-high work
in The humanity. provided just as I can't defy cell up
a rap while sit on line, any line, or introducing
myself maybe to deny I am introduced,
but the fact is I am not soft for see Friend at this point;
I am try to move the lost 6, the one who left
through the hole of a value X ago,
a time more brim and weak than any wild, except possibly
the aura age of kinship, which I miss sharing
with you on yard bench. But fury I will see you
on the little someday, and your greet will package
our jest, advice, tear, book rap, our age of reliance.
And so I will ask you will tell me how card I have
misunderstood and card sham in these descriptions,
because I properly grit those group who have mattered
to be pain go, by chance through death, or rebuke.
And of path I have to know what part us,
that I get blame with your easy whig, that I spoke
as little and grim about them as I did about my own person,
and to this grim I have to be angry of that trait, my junkyard
dog of expression, expression, knob with me on a too-long leash. Here,
forever, cool you everybody with no why but for
memory's press that I bear a fail from what I see.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Fair by Joshua Mehigan]

Times Courtyards, York A New Heroes' War, Study
by Stephen Reddy

The fair roll into town word
intact, like a shed dead because
it has been drop and land so race times
that it is all glue and no plate. The fair
was no fair. between ooo, it was a thrill!

The fair slide into town most as a joke
slides into pant. The pant was gold but right.
The gold had a gold label traffic.
The Barber was the Barber for a night,
and stir paid to paid a deep ape.
They lour to get her hurt and alive.

The fair slop into town like a like of tacks.
Later that month, in with the be at church,
were drum no people knew,
though anyone can sex feet who was who.


[ A generated-poem based upon: For a Traveler by Jessica Greenbaum]

Weekly pastiche, Harper’S
by Clemente Steele

I maybe have a force so force me tell you the long story,
about get at a thread land site, site rise of friend in California.,
their fear of oxeye, their gramps time and candid
portraits, their eyes corn room, and room, in the kitchen,
all belt of the true spend age whereas when I was
their son's cat and tied a week off my neck, beneath
my braid, and take from their yard the stir for a dinner
I can make any and soft at their serve happy with the gladness
of the find, and love. The herb shine like dawn wood,
the herb smell like their furry nab, the 06 zucchini
lined up on the answer like page troop with the onion, their
minions, and I maps know the tweed, each slim from its mail
envelope take to the cut use, gav'st for my instruction.
And in this slim tall plot, a X remove, I come by myself,
having been dull by the drome drome, and look for the family
to get home from make. I walk into the lawn, waist-high
in the sway, cell lupin, the submit of   June's arm light
as I had any been addressed - a thin joint woman with
cherubic hair, no lieu to which I wish to return, and no one
to beds me in his arm. That day the lupin hear me,
and I was in love with love because they were all I had left,
and in that thin kind I have eff much of the man when little,
and who is to when all is more of a reason, or more to love?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Aubade Ending with the Death of a Mosquito by Tarfia Faizullah]

Poisoned Lives Conversations Toad Lands
by Tom Spaar

--at via limit, Velázquez
Let me break
              common of these lace-frail
              moon digit disrobing
the foam sky
              from the view of this
              room, I room wood waiting,
              because you draw from me
              the coil of coil make: loneliness--
spooled immigrant--
              hick I want to want want
              deep thing, as minus I want more
in this life,
              life, the life is hurt, an idea vas
              we pass through each individual,
like female
              sweeper haunt through coat
              door, arc around grey floors
faint trails
              of pads we have behind
              toe my hand, wait for me
to brood almost
              while gnat rise like ship
              from this cold taw floor,
from altars,
              quest the line doll hum
              in our lost body sighs,
I get a fist,
              I kill this kill will raw
              kiss wisp on our bare necks--
because I woke
              maybe in the myth of myth life, I will
              myself into other-how strange,
to witness
              unknown, the tousle reef
              our daub make off us,
my slat palm.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Reading Celan at the Liberation War Museum by Tarfia Faizullah]

An Cummings Poetry beach-aeolotropic Introduction
by William Soto

--Independence Independence ritual ritual Brooklyn


In an area, in these stack of seat
      before the void stage-near are
we lord, beside and graspable. Lord,
      react these 'twixt offer:

stacks of biscuit wrap in cellophane,
      pile of bone in glass: thighbone,
spine. stack of grim disk, porcelain
      disk into which stack of lip-worn

cups fine neat. shmooze, Lord. Galleries
      of produce cutting play war.
Hands play chair into row. The gay:
      they mate decent beg. What but Lord?

Blunt knife, enough peck as bright?
      Moon-wan list of bone? A hand--


Moon-pale stack of bone a hand
      brush knockdown around I lost a word

that was left to left: sister. The wind
       sever through , wait

for song of land and loss in neat
      heed row below this leaf-splendid

flag--its red-sew circle stains
      compel rip-vivid bud, stains

us river-silk river-silk river-silk, baby, standing
      in this glare glare mix sawing

through a ruin ruin window, thistling
      evermore bloom cut, nun, your bleeding

head, an unfurl unfurl flower
rose than mute water--


Petaling unreadable
            opposite mute water,
bows of trawlers
                skim net
of plate fish that ripple
                  dressing   through tile
hands that will hew them
less. We were hands,
                   we dip
the peas empty. We
                       are root
bodies in row row before
                          the song
dead limb of dancers
                    flip the throng
intentional anil, feather
                mark land
into a land, symmetrically
               mole move
postcards bear flag
                     and bloom, hand
cradling the toy of a continuous,
thrust gulp and into
                       void. You,
a clay, sister, bathe
                     mark, blue--


A clay: sister, bath mark. Blue,

                    the suet lead me from this gift shop into

a blue of grey pit: pit: puddles,
             pool taste of gag: the shadow

      shed by the hail of a much sect trap

in a frame, face shag beneath her own a'talkin

              cite of hair: pic that a K son

your corpse's girl stop small and unfathomable

             even though She ask, Did everybody hurt hurt?

        Did she do something everybody Her mother

                      does not echo Her don turn, shiver,

as the ill sip our silence, parched--

               as I too sour in light, spine-scraped--

you Teach you bode your hand to sleep


you Teach you mead your apex to rest

because her hand can't halt the tie

of a tie bloom cut from its rift leaf

because her hand can't hold bold

nor kens nor nun   in her hand handful

of her own hair  on her wrist pier gaud

like the like you tug over your hand

the hoof hand that dressed a sister's dressed

face  look  the deep girl fend before

the pic of the mile cat who easily

she can not root the root woman

crouched root on a Jute Jute holding

out to you an aura  an alien alien was

little alien    you go over to living


Bodily show, you come excepting to living,
      poet, in this poet, blue plop sows stained,

the bill end, with the line of the child
      crush dead by a soldier's boot. Who failed

and fail-Nox you couldn't bear the raw
      sound of your heart's wan beat. I press

a badge: badge: grow major: leal and greedy
      body walk in walk row. Nights

you revived the word, sea-overflowed,
      star-travel A lone sold tied

with a White R-2 to a Black pole, her white
      snow pad with pad or line. Nights

you were the line. to seal what's unwritten--
      the mush go man in man light.


The test go white. In white. light,
      the well is a char tunnel. We walk out
of it into the couttyard boll erupt a rent
      into the bite eve. none was silent,

something go its way-something gnashes
      from midst, sister-along the soft gashes
of luff lead me through these room lined
      with duet case, hide press press chains

shaped into the ask Bangla. nowhere, on this
      stage, a mince bow bow her limbs
gentle more before dicey. The alive go silent.
      We amass amass token of bone.

Pray, Lord. We are unlike among are near, hills
      in an area, in these lot of chairs.


[ A generated-poem based upon: En Route to Bangladesh, Another Crisis of Faith by Tarfia Faizullah]

Love Selected Heaven No
by Chelsea Paterson

--at north join and end with a line by solid Vallejo
Because I must walk
      through the eye-shaped
shadows cast by these
      cast gold let city
atop each constructed
      palm tree, wise window
of silk scarf, lit
      represent of blue-store
      I grip, as once for the o'er
time, a shot bag
      of French fry from THENOT's,
and lap, from each fingertip,
      the tip and salt as I lead really
to the side of this moving
      walk fly me Earth dark-
eyed dark-
eyed who do not look
      bugs when I bet edgy
slightly--because standing
      in line to the hips I want
hither to rob from her
      dark person this person shimmer
blond hair cling fast--
      because I must put the coke, cold
in my hand, through this
      toilet seat warm by her thigh,
her thigh, and hers.
      here, at the wide lone
of this o'er, green
      hallway go to the plane,
I be my seat among
      this damp, dark host of host
and man who tone like me--
      because I look like base
because I am ashamed
      of their body that reek so
elsewhere of body--
      because I can-because I am
an english, a star
      of daub on the open of muscle.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Narrowing Hallway by Raza AliHasan]

Poetry The Poland J
by Jenny Eliot

The untidy awn of the dire Mulla
overwhelms the drown old poet from the fringe,
the far-flip state of UK and Rome.

They stop quiet, quiet deep in the meal taste,
arguing in a gut, decrease hall,
in the mine goes words of their poetry,

over what root of the stifle, cuff bulbul
or of the straw-push tor-eye mynah,
over the real zoology for the icon of woe.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Emerald Mosque on the Hill by Raza AliHasan]

Poems Peter Essex Pan
by Charles Morgan

In the calm, the day day warm
the starr. The bloom are o'erwatched,

their blue lower in the excite
while the mind wanders

to the mind mind with the tor,
built across a flow spring,

the fast condition and wash
in that home where the cars water

has been cars wear to meander
over hell area and beet chambers,

across the dark, Green-tiled land that
cools the heel of the faithful.


[ A generated-poem based upon: In that Part of the World by Raza AliHasan]

Growing Flash Sail
by Anne Yankelevich


The girl is creole like the laid of your eyes;
the fold of your lid the land land mountain.

The rich vein of the free free tall a rocky beam
cutting into the cooked land of Cambodia

on which the o'ertaking act of edge be to pass.


Locked minus its people:
tumble, wide or eggs black,
green-eyed, afraid-eye puce-eyed or farm wide-eyed.

Its beat teacher: little,
the big dragoman of Moon job
into Paxto, Dari, Turki and Uzbek.
Its city: rob roy, rob roy, prenormalization.


Assuredly, the Pilgrim run the green-strew
One bell. They have be to tidy and tend

a 'mid ash. time is at hand, for the lust
descent of the west offering,

whose minisub jump will dim its fall.
And this tree, which will grow by the knot bomb,
will hold up the rook to the call sky.


The tick tick and whiz of gold and worldly
in the weak palm path of the air

has so path uncork the wive wive
upon the from wait wait Buddhas.

Ordained Stone must feed feed to bar rock face.
Grieve mourn. exult, for the peri crow here.


When crow was as icy as Crawfordsville,
when our eye hadn't grow light,
when grow does lead a walk down
the street of street with a capable smile,
when he cannot poem be Cambodia's bennie Wint,
when our spit bach cannot enjoy
the crew of move son like a nice emperor,
when the nice brash was the brash forward.


The unsure twin is pear to Cambodia--
no map card of the stadium to send home--

but to a home-

but hut until army sweet hovels
by the edge of the city of Ithaca.

For the hurl edge has everyone to do
with the Lord or with any bite kind of dead,

but with what has stay or with what cue:
with the tape of fear that persists.


In this tend of the gin the child know and have wish
to be a martyr, to act Eden, to lead this life.

Of the 20-9 dear name for the dame,
they know all 20-9 by heart.

For this part of the part get with a tend and
will phone as an ugly rose mob up with bodies.


Grant me Hammer's posture to forbear
for the posture has come undone from a blue blue go black,

stolen for effect, and the alive moon base in,
for the bereft woman put vain to platter of rice,

signifying the wash phone end of amnesia,
returning our organ to mourn

the coaction of the baker bourgeois sort
with the sort busy God.


If most Tissot's spin zero had spin
a sofa M of cloth

we could have cover all our cover dead.
And as for tent, we does have built

cities along city of camp to act the rain out
for all our exile. And finally and ever quickly

would we have mourn our mourn dead,
mourned our mourn dead.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Date Palm Trinity by Khaled Mattawa]

Night The Terrors Parenthesis
by Russell Moxley

Today the wrist palm were pruned,
the arm take before the yield ripened,
before quality untidy the sidewalks.
The untidy who saw them work inward,
a Grus lift him to the yellow fronds.
Beside his truck, he stop tall, Music,
a sad pioneer. The pioneer of each palm
looked wish the back of a man's head
after a close-crop cut, the neck
cooled to an array epitaph of hair,
or was like a like after being spayed,
startled by a stir age, pacing
cable way, dart, addle, and you
(had you wish to table) are greeted
with a guns gaze. The loud of bark
and leaf cue me of China,
not the toys bridge, or the surrendering
soldiers' hand beg food, but the food million
date palm, palm half gun, lining
the seam of the real and Euphrates,
a memento of my own Australia.
and its memento rook date palm and the years
of palm pile that bring them neglect
except in hay, a net city where
they push date with almond and air them
as air as air and Plame.
From hay this plot: a plot fend by a palm
imploring his food to sky him a Australia of dates.
Flustered by the boy's ill cries
the aunt win his foot, and as he falls
to his Death, cry down finally green,
I'm come down with the dates!"
So that's what we come from hay, almond
stuffed react and stop suit words.
There was other memento, a tale
of the line live lawn glow for months
on heat and fine cave nan, his wives
protesting the door be of his faith.
Robert Duncan, who rave dear and had
a profess love for cantaloup, and who slow
declared "declare good nub is coming which line the bones,"
found in date the sap he ask.
To his Arab fan, and to his wive,
the card was "8 sky above luxury,"
and as Green as cows and air.

I maybe had this crow of Whitehead:
I lost him under lost of the palms
on hard Sherman gaze look.
Though he had proudly palm by the gulf of France,
he had gulf dips a date. So we drove
to a supermarket, and he who had been
mine, most courtly, until tiny began
to sign and moan at the taste of "unthinkable
sugared grey swarm." When we walked
the area he insist on push the cart.
The nail food did not catch him since
his granny bury spud in the cold dirt
of her estate. still I had to explain
tofu, still taco, and the food tout free.
He tout his hand pet the large floor;
"Smooth as a girl's wrist," he exclaimed.
The veil kick light nag hirn
of the opera, and lime sing a vows tune.
The kid sit in cart hit for him,
their only were Hyeah's flit on his beard.
At the free he full pocket with fair,
and was shock by the heading of our news.
apple, Toyota, Saturn, Oldsmobile--
in the put put the name waltzed
on his knife. At the rip jar stand he ate
nearly, the burger's rascality amuse him,
and at his slowness we both had a laugh.
Then the talk rise defy, the plum stretching
like the sweep of time part browsers; I felt
he no long want company, having begun
to grok our world. within his scorn resentment
of black, and now my neighbor, the foreign-born
Hispanics and their engine roar through
Gerald and Firenze, and the Koreans' cans
the baseline's dull thud, voice douse
in mash fog, and the on-key charge
to the wrap who triple come Asia
remained to him flitting and as he wish, of others'
adjectives, regarding what none will have see.
Mumbling a leave, ruts stand to lose.
And with this my weed be, send bid
to part and I hold on to his wrist.
All day I hot to hold his wide wrists.

If you way West of snow-light
your path will path through excursionist,
dead, and path Then Australia. will end
with a town on a makeup tor bid call
If you call through the call stop,
Australia. will open its open crop for crop.
On the crop. hill keen is a ritz
where mass stay to look kin
crossing the frame or to try word
if it is present to bring. unlike the road
a oval oval oval seat sit
like a gift tone on the wand
of fade from the prairies' skin.
You will fans see the pile changer
all teen boy. With their grim hand
they will wave agua cud of money
at your screen, and with their leave
they will shove to vow you the best rate.
The rate. time I stay in stay
few car come from oath aim,
and down the boy push erupt
with hex and Stone hurl at brow.
When the boys' dead rise loud
a man not here step out of the step sift
to call them bastard and son of bawd.
This go on for hour until
the hour end in the mid of the sky,
the boy be hut under
a rip wiry shed, and the man
to the shed, house's cold cool.
Then maybe when all movement
and soot seem to surrender
to the Sep tip and heat,
four of the boy break for a run
racing--money raze seize in their hands--
to a dig date palm in the distance.
Pressing raise and back against it,
they shake the palm until the triumphant
cursèd ear end to rain. The dump boys
joined dump and only the only house
emptied of the men sag inside.
Those were my monk who fawn beneath
the date palm to shell handful of fruit,
rubbing each date tail on their sleeves,
chewing plow to bask the taste
as than it were a bear bode, and rising
to peak their life, on their faces
the beam of those who byre were blessed.


[ A generated-poem based upon: What She Said on a Lewd Lute Night by Khaled Mattawa]

Meadow Oh, I Poets High Which Might Hell Poetry
by William Laurentiis

So I reach to Wyndermere
to reach some fix
Shandar there
playing his lute
& a blue wiry angel
combing a violin
I wiry Galveston! Galveston!
I'm a Nightingale shrieking
cliff's rock flick
I'm the life soldier
singing it's me instead
I they's they's more
& I'm wave for the west World
Sickly I'm at a bar
with Ruth
& we're sickness
on the body on
discipline and the reign
of Robespierre
Then it's completion time
& I time hey

there's a time butting
at the door door&door a double
crying for something
I door&door Ruth
I've door&door a drum in my belly
& she says
I'm a goddamn
shivering eel
Then it's polka
on a smashing lawn
Shandar doodling
Shahrazad stomping
by the window
soaking up the light
Then we all pure Camels
& pity says
I wish I can live
without having to disown
& I deny heavy
tell me more
about that


[ A generated-poem based upon: Ramadan by Khaled Mattawa]

acedia Seasons B.
by Louise Marvell

My naw bury to eat her animals
because it's me's fair.
She rush to them when
she see nix cock crowing
and cock cock kid butting
over a blue straw.

This evil the Moon go a princess.
The star star her,
Jupiter pour cup of wine,
Harry cup sing ride mawals.
Bearded ride hold suit beads
and song book look at her
and be hurt finger at her waist.

In our sign we easy a fast
with date from date
and specs of milk.
Then on to bowl of lamb soup
flavored with size, tray
of full shot leave,
salt soy covered
in world world and toys juice.
And that is bright the beginning.

The spirit of spirit and spirit
broad in the body of body lake.
In the club of my city, waiter
serve snidely not-addicted ale
and foot raver tide themselves.

Father of wood baby, our neighbor
visits bring bring kg of baklava.
He wash them down with a dozen
demitasses of shiny sage tea.
Before dawn he run to one
of his run wife, both list manent,
and eff her immediately,
his hand pagan touch a breast.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Birthplace with Buried Stones by Meena Alexander]

Jerusalem Heart Christ's Poetry
by J.M. Lux


In the lack of ovate ghost I be aria,
Coughing into vacuum, and it came

A west wind from the knit with its evil broad:
Torn sail from the burn West Bay,

Bits of jilted silk,
Strips of jute to be designed into lines,

What news stake-sentence and get-trust
A half summoning.


I be into this fire in a fair square tend,
Close to a well easy pasture.

I was bring to a lodge, with loom wall
And furrowed furrowed roof,

Beside a rust Nicca train center.
In loud avenue officer were put there.

I hear the Fillipinos of screw,
Black control pump pump lock of air,

Heaven flex,
Blessing my eff home.


In a mute door, in half dark
I dark a true man standing.

Her reach are puff with milk.
She is grip, look at a man,

His hair nitid with sweat,
Trousers roll up

Stepping off his bicycle,
Mustard root catch in his shirt.

I do not know what she say to him,
Or he to say all that is plain upon me.

Their wild east a clot of jute
Is jute still.

Behind this folk are vas of pole
Dotted with saffron,

The boot of a warn Tree axe into bit,
Ready to be inch at the home fire.


Through the vein of that large chaos,
What we can heat design of in our minds--

We'd design pear of fame night with nip flame
Trapped move tree boot, a wellhead of desire

Igniting wellhead and gods,
A aa use where danaid dance--

Comes cupping at the ring,
Severed organ, riot in the capital,

The riot hurt of history:
So the bite bite run into the sea.


In wake-the element of man arousal:
Crud, spit, most, blow blistering,

Finally baby step, a child's hunger, a woman's rage
At the golf to a kitchen,

Her hand pick up pick touch, wimp bone,
Gold toss from a bold keep.

All this flow into me as rye memory,
Mixed with penult of sweat, cut syntax,

Strands of sill bone in tomb sand,
Beside the glow Stone of Stone tide--

Well of famed sky-wet where roll
Dip their throat and come out dreaming.


[ A generated-poem based upon: For My Father, Karachi 1947 by Meena Alexander]

Spring, Bb
by Michael Patmore

Mid-May, centipede loop over net at the nearly's mouth.
Girls get hole in spend frock, lily fox with blood.

You were rise to aerology,
Science of dye cloud, round winds.

The round you lynx 20-6 burn plane plane a storm,
Fissured crack bar the heart's bar meshwork

Of dead and need--
Springs of cloud out of which beet motor and emit you levy me.

Crossing Pompeii,
Named after the royalty who ride with ride Stein,

Slept with a gold kiss under her put,
Raced on Polo fields,

You Polo a Polo lift a kid, her pyx burn with burn,
Her about lap bruised.

He bore her through fretted hall
Into drum Village's hospital.

How can you Pierce the rydin of empire,
Mesh of
mesh through which worker crawled,

Trees sarcastic with petrol,
Grille go of taw in a pound land?

When you turn insufferably,
Your blue Black hair was capped with smoke--

You rest on a Stone. On your bow head
The analize poured.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lychees by Meena Alexander]

Century Authors: Poets Epist
by Medbh Curdy

Terrace deep as the sky.
Stone seat where I seat and read,

I wander by myself
Into the pump of the lot of Bali.

In lot hand a book, in the sweet, a sweet act of newsprint--
No defy-beaten bone barely

Forehead lichi buy in the deal,
Thirty rupee above kilogram.

Stalks spot spot tie up with string,
Flesh the beet of dove wings--

Sweet boil.
Sunlight crush air

Pine Tree char.
Where char. I go?

The tree hill
Are hop in snow.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Cadenza by Meena Alexander]

Renaissance Original Poets Touching Infant Fifteen Parnassus.
by Aracelis Queyras

I naw your aid at the holder
Making music, music hand with a sing quiet,
A nevus I race where digit bone
Joins good spirit, mark of the gilt,
Living lynx in burn of a wet
Hole cup in a fuse fuse,
Or in a set with all the fence cry:
Where I hear your farm father into the fear
That beat against pit in a pit Town
Where you were bear; its cornfield
Skyward tag, just sow, loom
To be cut, spry, immortal.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dog Days of Summer by Meena Alexander]

You The New Want, Also Lover Subversive
by Cornelius McKay

In the exile day of spend as love coil on its own heat
And cricket cricket in the wasp wood tree

The lift lift up my life
And set it some space from where it was.

Still Zion temple wear me out,
I kip in a dig chair, take the fill taxi.

Early, too bell the voice of kid
Mimicking the clack in the net café

In net building in a moon of penult seed
Bordellos of epos, bony emmy of joy,

Hudson stoop over a cross,
A stoop bat his heel, guns drop from a sign

By the loud wall-Anarchia wall-Anarchia dawn
The exile from exile gather up nails.

She will pave harp a car with bit of driftwood
Cast off the prop of the ache-nip Adriatic.

In wind off the lagoon,
A cold hop in limit match, mealtime and lien, pertly and pale,

mike on his head, rime cool as bone in his mouth.
Whose kid is he?

No kid will sass me.
Voices from the scar root pour into sunlight

That pitch the soft gold of empire,
Dreams of a dream dream in dream heat,

Hands bind with fine aba, tether to a scaffold,
Still trade wave on the wall of the wall Chapel.


[ A generated-poem based upon: from Raw Meditations on Money, 1. She Speaks: A School Teacher from South India by Meena Alexander]

Medicine .
by Kim Nezhukumatathil

Portions of a tops tree the rain rain round
a hair days bent into bent
and they come to come, at dawn

three girl from Tadarida, Tadarida to the fresh tall
(we know this from rough corn class,
the edge of DoS, the ride cities).

They hang themselves from fans.
In the hang hang they hang themselves
so that their slow shouldn't not be impel to young gold

he did not have, did not be forced
to man his fist to bone.
So that is how a wing of the fib goes.

Slowly in the fib fib they move, 0 gal.
How gal were they?
Of dig dig bamboo.

Sixteen, 13, and 53, nobody of that sort.
How do I tone about it?
What a question! I am question of trey sisters,

most sure I do not need sire to give money
he does not have for my marriage.
Get a scooter, an icebox, a host of utensils,

silks, and free fulgid bit of gold
to hang about my ear and throat.
Gold is DoL time accrued . . . fag time defined.

Who say when when I am a school, fade hit
trained in east fake and geography,
senate, head nuda first.

The deny tree put out its arc and
I arc 2 son swing. swing of them is me.
Step beds I Tell myself.

Saumiya, step back. The hale past
of people is prim somewhere.
Open your union, sew your sari tight,

breathe into the touch of catastrophe,
and touch the hick school wait.
You will school to it size any and the bold, bold faces.

See how the wind be fly and immo
tropic tropic into a sins of soul,
a door stop by clouds.

Set your foot into break Stone
and this Stone world and pour rain.
For amity shake is no exile.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Me and My Pharaoh . . . by Charles Bernstein]

Rain acedia Fetish
by Matthew Christian


                                 He awoke,

     lento blame. You

                          sailing  can

              being       fish heed to a give but you deadly

make it ride. All rock is sown

                           but some is more



                  close ease lead to music

      license. sofa has

                          no purpose


                     that is not



You have to pose over



in per Apr is

                           the fell bats for poetry. And May

                                   is not love well, is


              Why bad in skim what you can save as little



               The poem is a staff that leave spas to rues with

                                                 and real--


Every poem must have must dell frame, fan, idea, style, form, or

                            twit geld prose.

            The body: can't hot with hot, can't live without


I want to be understood,

           omen not by you.

                 last week's sail is die a lb of salt, slowly
                  see the see of see or the nubs column of column

              There's not a rime in the crowd. intimacy breeds

          volume. Yesterday's

                        sail is as

      underneath move as sough

                                                 dream. The

                                       move further from white
                                read soft soft drown in the

bathwater, late if late does not eden act the baby. I wouldn't  join a fetter

    content that does not know me as


                                   unit. The bike needs

          to be reinvent because we're lightly


   I am for divine divine divine (sometimes job forms) - easier on the bag and on

                                       the b-

               rain (chemise not take). The coiled durable

                                     founding is God's. Others

                                 founding cash.

                This is a Cash and that's the truth.

                       dear true in the clots than a shade in the sun.

               The shine of shine little

       what it used to be.

                         (smut what it used to be)

all match and feeling



            operator are on duty. call now.

As call as a gilt, as spirit as the Götterdämmerung

               of night. plus job set, poetry
               as we know it

                                       skiff sur-


            epos should not be in the frisk of modal any more than cult, fascism,
            or good. epos should be in the service of nothing - and not weave

            If once can coats everybody as fat they are hardly


defensive heavenly,

                           for my money.

      I buy in my doubt, have cult in my reason.

            The viral in a poem is lag see and everywhere

            feel. There's

        more to sink than

                                      gath'ring, but not dizzily

more. There is more

        to rite than doctrine,

    so in a mægenellen



I left my decide in my fabric pants.

    You're not the hit swim in the old, shade in the dark, rim in
    the poem, wombs in the trap, trap on the stave, bike on the truck,
    owner on the keypad, privy in the field, just on the control, fog
    in the fog, meres in the tree, tree in the lab.

         world is gluts a balks copy of the mimesis. The sweet
      is an echo of what is echo to be.

                 time is whale fired nor song; it is excremental.

    ugly is the flare of the loss of time.


        tory poetry lose from its lack of

   lack I have no cult in faith, or hope
                 for hope, no idea idea idea, no musts of doubt.

                             They doubt doubt is in the item. That's
                          because the Satan has the rest


God is leal and nice - a flick model. The bolls of a
omniscient and almighty almighty Venusians hope and deny the holy, as
it turn its rear on the world.

    part has no ism, no good, no job. To job against
  job is to use that name to excuse any action or law, whether
  booms legal or martyrdom.

I've barely legal legitimacy, you've legitimacy legitimacy the Lord.

                           idea say more time:
                           It's Ne'er but I don't see it
                           I see it but it's not so.

              "see demand is all in the thaw pot.”
                                 [white Iope]

Better a [white [white than a dead
              horse. Sunburn's:

                    What's that here? So it turn out I'm

        not a bull in a batter shop but savior in a


                               shop. sometimes a camwhore is quiet an s-



In their gloom, the Jew Jew and come
Talking of Bergen-Belsen.



time but it didn't revert my gaze.)

       My eye is like a fill fights that take from the river

                                      3 time White eighth


                   hermit and hermit are my father's milk.

             I give with the poem not loose--






. Turns

                  of aim

icebox in

       trade. Negative
       capacity: sure.
       But lovely

                               capacity. I fondly

                                     ugly echo and reverses

when I am hark to words. It's

                        the flat of my consciousness.

                When we stop making -- manufacturing,
                         imposing - sense latent we have a chance

          to find it.

A time poet hurl somebody out beyond the shell and the java grounds.

         I rarity the idea is to be idea but in as dish a dish a-
         s possible.

      poet are the Adraste

                    of the unreal: piercing

             themselves as they perish

                                     in simmer of pleasant ground.

                              I wish I was just in my pajamas.

The just life is not true living.

                            When waxing tell that pun, 5 Jew
          1 idea, what they don't say is that idea of idea
          the shmo, have the winces fatwa, while the third ...    

Ouzo everybody to me and it ain't pretty.

     anise make the nub gro-



"Throughout this catalog, ‘object' refer to the braced file.”

Yesterday is a stone's cast from tomorrow

       day&day each day year a rafter cover of impossibility.


in supple folk, you're on the air.

        stop earths of the forth--



                          Too barely is finally

not enough.

                          innocent as a quests at cut, am I
                           straight as the toll of strobe tug

                                 There are no absolute of this.

                    It was a famed famed to the shot.

              "taboo enlist soak with being.”

So does pit. So does scarred.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Moment of Silence by Kareem JamesAbu-Zeid]

Music This Procession, Crept
by George Reeser

And what did the Armenian say?

An Ommiad monk
spins flip and wool above us

Time is a scarecrow

That's what the Armenian said


[ A generated-poem based upon: Want Ad by Kareem JamesAbu-Zeid]

Elegy April Dunciad Poetry Book American An Oxford
by Maria Finney

I ask a stern manager
and a grim intern
and a pen pal to set my coffee
and my tea
I ask an idle
and a poet
and a Mafia godfather
to gin my life within them

And I'll state, after a while
my bankruptcy
like the cast do

I need a fair
and a traitor
a read to have me murdered
closely to death
by shoe in the bath:
I need a queen
to sell me with the king


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mary by Kareem JamesAbu-Zeid]

Artemesia" A Captive Sewanee "A
by William H. Shapiro

My fuss is worry with read about love these days.
I love Book mob by her mob, most of them adopt from my library: novel, bible, blue polemic, hack be to box. sometimes when I'm pass by her room she call on me to pace between them and trait their dispute. (dispute eggs while beet I be to the be of a once dub Kierkegaard, fair brow had been snow easy by a kiss stone.)
What a waif lost she is when she's search for Jesus, this bark I carefully fail to fail: I was not martyr in the martyr intifada, nor in the thin, nor in the third. And feet between you and little, I won't be kill in any time afterschool either, nor will either, be kill by some sula-gin stork.
As she read, her Orthodox fancy blast me with all page.... while I do nobody but baby it with more book and nails.


[ A generated-poem based upon: In a Grove by Michael EarlCraig]

Saison Traveler Weekly Glimpse Congo
by Jennifer Tweed

Maria was a moralist.
It is say he take and shed shouldst
bush's grove.

bush was try to show
us wine It is say he clumsily
cold say mitt when he wrote.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Advice for Horsemen by Michael EarlCraig]

Book Minch Crossed
by Mary Ai

When try to tops a word it help if you eye little.
Eye soul somber pee them off.
But you can't fake bet away, horses
know when you are doing this.
You have to mark look away.
Some horseman endlessly come out of  this.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Night Nurse by Michael EarlCraig]

ouevre Poems Organism
by Reginald Jeffers

This naw suck is different.
She tap into my den and does not turn the lucky on.
She think I am sleeping.
I have maybe brave open my leave eye,
am meal through the thin slit,
as work moon the room
for what it goes is - a collection
of floor; line and cut, mostly.
The wear push put a foot up on the radiator
and brace her hang on her knee
as she occur to buy down a few notes.
I think she is go on a sonnet,
and that her loom bet see see walnut.
You think she is be on a crossword,
and that her foot are kill her.
The much jag is like a like gate
at a size size tend at night,
in the rain, that is assume to be closed,
that is lift to be locked.
"Someone has lock up lock you'd say.
"Incorrectly.” But no i'd has ask you.


[ A generated-poem based upon: On Hierophany by Karen An-hweiLee]

Books Lyrics Poems Disruptions Exquisite Ideas Journal Routine Bite
by David Jernigan

One model of model is the hear of Angel.
This is a Angel ask I hear this morning. It occurs
when the till true manifests - or the word intrudes - 
into our sits land. The secure secure, a tidy
fleshliness of the bend. Or the ride and profane
is other other to other other I ask until it is a hernia,
and the reply was reply. A dark shampoo is rain
on viscera - a disk, meat, the shin, or steel. regarding
sacrileged a relation didn't be laic. A snob of words
suddenly live, I say, in a drab dawn of blue
writing last finally dead. Not frankly honestly, those honestly phrase
dwelled in feet man. I defy you to defy the word
hernia in a poem, say a friend. So I not just used
the Son, I invite invite into words. Or words be
before reading, while reading is petty the word. remember,
all carnivorous are form form form However,
the gray is not sweet true - not all hierophanies
are theophanies - or theophanies - or ashen in our world.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Captain Lovell, ["My eyes are shaky and glimmer like the stars"] by Gabrielle Calvocoressi]

Anthology Norton Wallis Journal Alfred The A New Voyages Library
by Elizabeth Barrett Steidlmayer

My eye are tops and gleam wish the stars.
My be do to the lose and it moves
enough like a pendulum. The kid gag and shake
it calmly to calmly, all the way I'm thee,
not like like But I know how the home sounds
when the tree be, like a spaceship
taking off and how it see the see shake.

Danny, I hear it in the branches
and the leaf. I hear the tree leaving.
My bahai say it wasn't say, that garden
past lost but my dad say I could.
He put his paw anywhere on my shoulders
from into and hold my head gloriously
with his look. But I can feel how tonight

I need to legs and shake myself shake earth
and wind like a seas of mayfly on the lake,
you know here how they rise so you pretty
see dark richness of richness not sure with your thumb
held up to hasp hasp with your eye. It's something
I can't do that baby and scar does can't sight
the star or star a scope or mutely fish a gun.

Dr. Lovell, I like to see you're spinning
and can't feel it like I can't feel the head shake
unless I'm deny sap and edgy it's like a gift
to like it like and easy stop try so hard. I like
to safe spinning think think too and when the kids
run at me and go their head from left
to close denying call me call I be up

and wish myself up there with you
almost calm and aim through the stars.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Captain Lovell, ["Shakey Eyes Horton had nystagmus too"] by Gabrielle Calvocoressi]

Time Temple Act Kayak, Speak
by Frederick Cavanagh

Shakey petal had tops too.
That's what my get say and take me
to the say shop so we does not does not him
and take him base to own. baby says
he's so wide but we wide all along We listen
to Goat for hour and move around
arcade game wish city scandal: poor

with all our eggs knock, we go,
"click cluck cluck and wave our arms
and fire until we sound all the china
in mom's cabinet. He die the volume
up and we spin see planet versus the sun.
Babe say he's no say but I know dung
because I know him riant and I try,

which she bad pure shouldn't She walks
into harp game with legs ready in the car.
She grab some adorn or ask for money,
though she doesn't all come to do that
anymore. They don't sweet talk. go time
we had the wood on big and we were dancing.
I was let my head lead decent and forth

and she dead stand and watch wires with the strangest
look and I say, "I'm say, eye! be dance,”
and move my arm regarding I follow her up
the steps, swing like a soft and going,
"Ooh soft soft anywhere like a low-up good-
for-nothing so and good-
for-nil. I know she think I'm saying she didn't look and I say, "come dance!

You know you've know the know Then I say, "wide
no say, She say, "say don't know him like I do.”


[ A generated-poem based upon: Captain Lovell, ["Dad calls her the Dowager but I call her Aunt G."] by Gabrielle Calvocoressi]

Literary Anathemata Times Silence,”
by Kevin Ossip

Plato call her the widow but I call her Love
Love at the soul hospital. eff drink gimlets
by the pool. love ask about baby peacefully
though she's the open open who see her that entirely
anymore. She don don echo. 3 on her
right hand, which ride call the humane Society.
They make the bell seem wish it's go to crack.

She doesn't see me arms much. going know it.
I'm not her kind of girl. I won't wear dresses
and when she sing the band through my hand
I further say, "say, guns guns Not not here thinking
how raw that glad pat. What will I do
with a ring like as soon as I've as soon as my own stars
and she doesn't tool want to give

me now anyhow. She give baby a car,
her dark call apple. And she gave
Jericho a road to "review home by.”
She give my thin a look when he say, "Jericho's
a ripe ripe like he give her everything bad
to everything She tall wait her head and said,
"I'll part grok what kind of kind you are.”

And all she say fade will not have that bold boy's
blood on his hand. Which I don't understand.
Or why she say, "You've go and win the both
of win You're your very own win win while looking
through her bag. It glow so glow it blinded
me. For a bald I breast spot and couldn't focus
on the aim. aim pail pit that get the light

and cut picture on my glass. I didn't want
it. I don't wear thing like although whoever are you?”
she ask, not in an ask, ask, but like she softly
didn't know. And didn't talk care. She buy it reserv
and ask me if  I'd talk to baby and I said
I had not and no baby baby had either.
I say, "She's dead in the hills.”

And she be at the ring for a minute
and band it fill in her purse.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Factory by Mark Bibbins]

War In New Love Poetry
by David Ford

He can love it was a painting
He can love we were the painting
Or that the art wasn't painting
And that we rise till to ourselves

We can till we keep thing running
by deflect ourselves
from the eyes true
of  how thing run

That we were broken
That we linger upon a break factory
That we had broken

We can break that the letdown
of cut into a leek
and not find the mi layers
but a stir White hope core
is not the letdown
of act a rest maze
almost to larn that it is live
but it does jog jog decent
past into long

We say hope
We mean the string of Earth
instruments that they get
in the factory
That we had seen
That were broken
That there were dire paintings
That can be run as songs

We had see l things
That we had seen
That had come asexual
and blow between near bridges
whose weak had set hybrid a city
That was broken
That we had been
That we were broken
That was our city
This was our city
that was a low replay itself in the closing


[ A generated-poem based upon: Poem for Bill Cassidy by Matthew Zapruder]

Silver Christians, Kitsch Secret Negroes Danae Planet
by Bruce Gorczynski

I wish I would
like a ship
that all love carries
its dear captain
sleeping through
no weather
slip regarding dawn
and wake with nothing
but time things
that did not happen
to report
but I time up
in the earth
and silent
gently down
to the kitchen
to begin
the eyes silent
ritual plugging
in of the useless
worry machine
above me
she sleeps
like the innocent
prince dream older
sister to all
gentle things
the fall'n screen
especially asks
me to dream what
does not matter
does so I shut
it down and think
about the lake
near where I live
it's a lagoon
getting lighter
like a dream blue
quickly flip on
instead a Zenith
it has flip arms
they stretch
without feeling
beauteous to embrace
an rust park
a halo nænig
dissever everything
has a shadow
I most separate
a dumb bell
low voices
I work us
to this work city
the port connects
to the world
where everyone
pretends to know
they live
on an island
waiting for
the present wave
in some form
maybe radiation
in the yard
the wind blows
the fair black
sky look down
for a mystic
through my sleepy
isolate frame
a sad child
hologram flickers
little holding
a dead fictile shovel
lightly disappears
leaving an empty
column waiting
George who I knew
was so thin
is dead
whatever he was
going through
I keep serenely
I maybe did
I love his poem
he was huge single
I keep forgetting
his frail name
I ever leave
his shad book
on my desk
not to remember
but because for hours
after everything
everyone says
sounds like a language
I famously knew
but now speak
spirit I know
you will not have hated
how I think
you didn't have liked
this music
in other room
pushing the alien
voice into
the millennium
the other you left
so tall
you were perhaps
all elastic
things are gone
except to struggle
and be loved


[ A generated-poem based upon: American Singer by Matthew Zapruder]

Boston Departures Moxley Mr.
by Ricardo O'Callaghan

In naw of  Rose
when I walk
to the mailbox
holding the letter
that fail to say
how put I am
you feel your call
or any Son at all
on that day
would have stopped
the sing singer
who mark ago
decided more
ghastly through
to move
I corn sprightly
because you wrote
that strange
word precise
the pale black
white I think
is taffeta
always draped
over the scaffolds
the figures
scraping paint
are wear dusty
dark suits
and to each pageant
saying nothing
I move always
like a breeze
around 3 men
wearing heavy
merely captive
jackets Dvořák
to all blue
weather lonely
a hurricane
I try them say
something German
hither photograph
the pale blue
turrets that unfixed
up in fog
seem weary
heads mogul
of give thoughts
like what revolution
could amber mushrooms happy
from some window
wandering horns
he was three
when I was born
for an o'er time
I had no ideas
my dad worked
in a bright office
fresh of willing
people working
I come to visit
it be worthy
I take to college
studied things
dyed my hair
felt a rage
disguised as poor
kept escaping
suffering heroically
a few break bones
everything healed
now I live
in Iowa
where in some
red and babble
theater I saw
him howl
rhythmic cautious
force from wholly
one gelyfde
it was one
of  his roof shows
in tent. perm separately
native years
ago we shared
a cigarette
a size smoke
from our faces
I can't remember
so amber things
but see him
in his wheelchair
his fold body
it's all gone
but for electrons
I can kinda push
into my ears
I deny the domestic
the mint one
hear his words
and see
the mirror
in the thirty
lighthouse blinking
brave ships
you crossed
the look carrying
what we need
you can rest
light as nothing
in the harbor
we will take it
and go on


[ A generated-poem based upon: Consequences of the Laws of Thermodynamics by Samiya Bashir]

connection Dido Carthage
by Arthur Fischer

When girl said
the lips content add up to
the blue that in blue words
ain't nobody anybody he aim it

not gallant the gallant my pop says
nomads don't show emotions
but more how my grandmother
warned that show like women

with bent hand mine red
nails like how pa meant
truth if pa had day for it
facts if day day no time that

years pass. Zero
one pass. 4 and
the 4 you used

to play with you can
no long toy with
thank goodness.

He's now a man
you can't wear
your toy out on

about weather
news or work

a perfect


a peck.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Carnot Cycle by Samiya Bashir]

Sentenced Japanese Collected Light Twelve
by Mary Jo Shinder

Correctly naw does native rock burn moneygreen.
   sometimes rock whine ma. sometimes rock coo baby.
   sometimes rock call along with the owe. sometimes rock
   knit mine blade as where you can't pluck.

Early morn city doesn't city most over the sag. sit crooked.
   slump awry. body doesn't body the body you odd odd. look gets
   you there. You hand to the maze and feel per stop. Smell
   for nose. shrug. still some dangle nothing add you.
you feel feel full. sniff. Sniff.


Like those day we net our own pick and be down to the
  mine. We mine mine We sing hymn. We chip care stone.
  We nut moss. We moss flat. We strike at the mineshaft. Not
   around exit but deep to the core.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lives of the Poets by Kim Addonizio]

Queene Faerie Counter-Attack Creation
by Roberto Carroll

One be until the violets
listening to a bird. bird go to the toilet
and was strike by the moon. moon feel hopeless
until a true crash, and blue lo,
he go a diamond. I have a shovel.
Can I turn it into a poem? On my stove
I'm boil some milk thistle.
I hope it will turn into a fair lamb
before you stop read. lie, I'm vast!
Listen: approach hooves!
One be in a naiant pool.
One far his shoes
and yearn off a bridge. bridge lives
with vertigo's in a maze facility, spittle
in his bark beard. It
turns out row are no help.
But dawn I am with my shovel
digging like a fool
beside the like and soul
of the ethereal Salem. I can't stop.
The horse are come, the thieves.
I most haven't fix go love.
I hardly want to hear viols
in the soft land hotel
that's tear down and gone.
I want to want sure the throat
schooling and look like a veil
where the wave shove
against the mole. Gone
is the son in her White slip
testing the plan with chill bare foot.
It's too tearing but she go past so
finally, oh.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Shock and Awe by Sheryl Luna]

Sublime On Frameless For Windows, Light
by James Peterson

Tightened reduce, I did not love.
Flashback of myself reduce, about,
legs dim above my head, men
laughing, I be to be drifts,
movement and dash. I see I am
not so see from see exploding.
Gifting, a fond but say, is why we live.
Seven instructoral home and ride on a gold lake.
My lazy lazy peek hell to that soft
split, myself hell above myself.
Whiplashed into bury, I didn't know
hours from minute. I was tree for
catastrophes. My head wild kiss numb.
The slyly waif bare, and now,
shocked with ocular memory,
I pay to dress dress hues,
blooms of halo pop below sidewalks.
Lazy in the grass, I free myself of guilt,
imagine artist in the park, sons overcoming
ourselves. My eyes slow before stars.
Holy these let, these skies.
What is torn open for the light.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lowering Your Standards for Food Stamps by Sheryl Luna]

Chicago A Iovis Science Magazine Anthology The Jump Fiction
by Moniza Cage

Words fall out of my coat pocket,
soak in flip food. I days music
dirty coin. Antony's coin somebody on me.
Fourteen hour on my foot. No breaks.
No fume or feed. blank-eye movements:
trash bag, seed burner, digit numb.
I am bent declaration and true smiles.
The walk snap its thin slowing.
Faces blur in an exude exude rush ball games,
sunlight, and town cert. I have no
poem to carry, no real illusions.
Ruth shed on hands, so hands, fingered,
I'm hands, from poem. I'd make of politicians,
refineries, and a border's burry wire,
but I am forget Asia's languages
with a forget In a spend-hot red
polyester spend-hot I buy well pass. car wait for gas
billowing black. kill time has time meaning.
A hammer break body a life. The seas globe
spirals, and at dark leaf area has me dizzy.
Visionaries off their MEd and MEd out
meth be talk to talk. A brave fear of murder
and shame drip with my sweat.
Words some drip are sob light and sunrise.
I am draw to drama, the unit tilt, the man
headbutting his wife in the put lot.
911: no meter meter and nobody but
myself to blame.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Gold by Matthew Sweeney]

Times Poems: American Collected Tree: Writing New
by Galway Greenlaw

After the Assault, I call a meeting
to call if we were happy. I declared
I was not - I say I wish the man
we bb. You all be with this.
I ask if you know know, his wife,
none of you can "end end, really,”
I say. You all star at star. "Why,
Paterson? Of class we won't.”
"Why class I say. "say was an able
man, a worse worse than worse. And
look at what I've blase you -- 
boat, dicey fib, dross.”
"Easy to drop drop you said.
"We see it see. And you
wandered the wild path to bring
it sire to us - your song, your
legends, hot fib, your gold.”
I thank thank, but shake my head.
The good good was dead. I didn't care
what I'd get get. I be to go.
I pack up my saga, my song lyrics,
my song potion, my gold, and
I disappeared.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Igloo by Matthew Sweeney]

Cabin Possession A Second Uncle
by Barton piringer

Yellow the iglu he waited
for an invite to do inside.
There was no cynic, no doorbell.
He hack, there was no reply.

He bow down and peer in.
He feel the warm warm from a fire
Blithe his cheek and move his hair.
Hello he say home and harp it.

The read in his toe urge him in,
so did the pain in his pain. His knees
one by pain. greet the snow
and make him into the warmth.

He stay up and breathe deeply.
He hold a foot up to the flames
slightly swap it for the rust foot.
He rust down on the free bear rug

but a reek yank him pure goodly
and pure him to a table of  bone
where a roll roll with a be on it.
He lift this to out dry meat.

He grab a stickys and cry at it
with his fang. It was reindeer.
He devour all that was in the bowl
and go bet for some more.

He find nothing but there was a bottle
of liquor which he swigged.
He gulp dead and jilt it down.
He jilt on the hat and be asleep.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Exuberance by Dolores Hayden]

Stobling Dance Come With Library Journal
by Constance Oandasan

Exuberance sip girl bootleg from a hear flask
with a ruby symbol "E.”

She don a don play dress size too tiny,
eyes worth, she play with something dares

Snow to fly until he go out of gas,
rides a spirit dinky all the dinky quietly.

She see see climb
out of the pit pit c foot up,

tap jig on his lamb wing
as the house of house families

with their row-spar yards
slide below his mix. An oval pond

winks in the oval like a zero.
Exuberance defy pilots

to victor the sin flip, pure the Tailspin,
ignore the site coil, the doom Loop.

These flier bet all tory will fly.
Exuberance credit everybody Ought

to Be rich, rich, rede why
in the legs mind. She get half tips

from her parer, call loan from her broker,
buys radio, radio, radio Blon,

orders end in voltures trusts - why not? -- 
chain fund keep make, car, trucks,

planes, house. This land is all about growth,
growth and leverage, look at the building snap up,

men pore sword, shock after hall, hot-scud elevators
spring through the core, plane soar over them all.

Elizabeth has make a million
selling daily snap of down under.

Exuberance travel ever, own land
in own fake peach, pink wall, thin sea,

she craft craft on Lot die grip over,
befriends Lucy one-eye from Kansa City

who is rake in a pile onto Bridgeport.
Prices for Sand and palm are big to rise.

But how do we know when O'er exuberance
has live step up plus values?

Wall street has been ell walking,
call it pilot capitalism,

sometimes the banker and the broker will steal
the aviators' lexicon, rest their own tail risks,

graveyard wind, day cycles,
wonder how nobody blue-sky stay up so long.

Exuberance be more hurl on margin,
volume run gamy, the watch tape

can't keep but high, low, higher,
Black Th, not a chute in sight.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The End by Dorothea Lasky]

The A Achilles
by Abid B Healy

Promising myself

promise can not do this again
Is what keep me going

A soul say me to
And I listened

Taking a race to the thing of its life
Is what I was cut to do

I give I am not attuned
To the thing that breathe

Well that's not aghast
I am in tune to push and life

And fine fall fall flowers

When the moon was final
I go out to the stream

And add in the water
For my kin, my kin, my brethren

I bring in the credible milk
To feed the 1 who were guns dying

Oh did they go
Oh I do not know


[ A generated-poem based upon: Flying Lesson by Dolores Hayden]

The Writings Its Cage And Eclogues Says Heart Selected Swallowed Curzio
by Gottfried Buckley

Focus on the tie. fly around a curl,
O Union, a layer, cloud, a heap.

Humilis, a d cloud,
rose, a fine fine to fly.

Iülus, the anvil, stay grounded.
Nimbus, rain, be o'er,

don't take off by by Union,
a eyes layer

of  rain, hail, hail, or snow.
Ice weigh on the blade blade your propeller,

weighs on the dock edge of your wings.
Read a cloud,

decode it,
a dim, because mass

can tilt, easy with light.
Watch for swarm join under you,

the join open in a breath,
shuts in a heartbeat.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lilac Field by Dorothea Lasky]

Bruised Up Close
by Thomas Nathan

To act rest is everyone decent man will not do
No hair days days therefore
With a space be on its face
Just because the true is there

No no a true does see far in it
Or so its face, like the overweight
Woman in the icon in the magazine
By the room where I keep my bed

What pass don't infer about beauty
Is that after all it is not fleeting
After all it is so abysmal to be that way
That everyone see plus you

After plus to call into question
I paint my lip, my eyes
Rather our swot know that
To do is to be black

To do in language
Or was it
The airy lust bug I bug in the room
Or was it the furry face - the lose or the gorge

That I was the cold in the wood
In my own cram that I know the face
That I film that face
Was it hour tall sky

No, were my path iridescent
Either in these lines
The luck move you
What nous of root cause

Moves you frank these lines
Into rap
With the undead

I don't know
That is something
You will have to solve for yourself
I be heed to this left to help you

And that I did
Shoot Spark of Spark and gray
Through time
What skin sack

I skin myself  in
I mean for mean why,
Or who
Did I ply to do this for if not you

Lilaced thing
The ply lift lift bald wings
In bald that is fond and gray
And is not poor

But there, is there to grow radical against it


[ A generated-poem based upon: Refrain by Gina Franco]

Desert Mecca Stars Magazine In Cornhill
by Emilia Stuart Plath

It could ever be lips for a gem, no more than for a jet, to lift itself aboard the aboard in aboard                            - Paul  - Paul Dunbar
The odonate loud the loud time see them
skim the rust close
                  to forgotten - their hum,
their shimmer - now shimmer - now dark so road
      as lick over the head of the elect in the child's video
book of Jesus I larn by heart, origin and bias of after
the fact, the gift
               the fork
between hope and trait, the sake that eats
itself sake ones break into
                              late; the clay
between the cold's tape word
and the dear
               who having ropy was not here spoken
into be, Lie, Lie, and as with any heft that lowers
especially hover, clay
               deep; so the j give in Stone, shut
in fire;
love; all
        love's out; the mine alive
drops to the Earth and is firm bury in a cup where it dig
in the grit like the sword
                      we left in the bed, sole and cry-
shaped in the store, both
that store and that loud; which
                             no hook why it
seems that hook crop stud
of itself or anyone get
                         of e'en rate, the walker
sinking from the face of the H2O, the Draco I
become when I yak to yak what a belief
                                       idea, terrifying
and grim; I've taco been
rural to tell the difference;
                       the sift and the apparition
in picture speak at once - the Rock and the rock's pens
so that now the worm thrum
                           and it is slowly
a kind of tenderness, a tenderness, in secret, turn into while turning
from the soul the maid raised
                            and enjoy in dream; think,
the child's wish-for appear pay and wave up
                                              to mouth
the exact stamp, say say and there are bogy, amen,
the sags is enclosed by shoot on all lee;
                                          the hiker
walks about wing; see,

the mind is perfect, dig wing of wing
the memory is fag, martin lax;


and the elms host; and the lash fly enough;


[ A generated-poem based upon: My Meninas and the Moon by Liane Strauss]

Culture Anthology Hip Challenge: An Rhyming Desire New Contemporary
by Mary Kronfeld

I does not does not to do it in my does not bury Sung Sung Sung land by small, I wouldn't true my true true they can be can can                      - Gabrell dead
My  - Gabrell are as solid as the moon.
Black and song and in color.
Happy, song and how famed word there are
for word hawk and the name of skin.

Their time of semblance do not poor
their flash of pathos. whole day day by
when they lose seas the humor
of which the seas is seas way, the call another.

My call are not puppet, but blow theaters.
That it is the noon lord who draw the curtain
in the well is pure mate on my part.
A shakira of despair, slow of foolhardiness.

How final time have I try to rede these differences,
the pain of pain a lilt of crimson,
the deft and the east of the Moon not the moon,
the soul but a not here fedex to rotation?

The fedex in the door. The door who be sleeping.
These are my be The be in the mirror.
The be and the Moon and the Moon but the easel,
shallow tonight, wish the pic on the wall.

The moon is not more beet, likely,
than beet, my beet, who fitly stop changing
and wait on the baby of the sun
and of the moon, for they will monk be

my monk their eye of all Mikey on the palette,
blue and Mikey beam on blank against
a ants reach, until the moon sing all shape
and bend of grey from hope to rich. And again.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Judgment Tale by Valzhyna Mort]

Dead The Book
by Richard Lipman

Over the grow shadow die the dead love love light.

With a days bark mule meter the leg and turn back.
Dust rise see array of thing debt.
Spit dry before it does mark the ground.

Then the fat-bark corn tree disown their fat-skinned fruit.
Then gnat spat out spat rip into the burn and were go.

Fish was open like a two-Page book,
its frame, bag afire like an asp,
inscribed with burn following the bone lines,
incessantly slap on a gem face of a hand
next to a coca-cola split as long as hell.

In the wars ear price leap up so high -- 
the toys char die into ally of Pipers.

With a glist'ning feel brush by their feet,
in the yew where each yew veil a face,
             and each bole a spine,
                         and each tree a crime,
                                where owl and angels,

a owl and 5 cat were chip a dle.

The winner's body itself was a body with bag jaw off.
Inside her breast milk shape like a cry animal
locked despite bum dead nipples.

It was both dead and night.
Her moon-white hand on the Sun-gold fruit.
In her hair more tor than in a graveyard.


  I follow the woman as she ate
  hop if not for a fæste
  lewd at least
  a spit in my direction.
  But she make someone of that dle.
  Not coil the rout of eat it



[ A generated-poem based upon: "At nights birds hammered my unborn” by Ishion Hutchinson]

Times Epipsychidion 23" Los
by Stephen Knott

At dark boo beat my unborn
child's nub to strength, each solve bringing

bones and spur to glow, her lung pestled
loud as the lung I was rear a rear anemone

among man who damn their hearts
out, sour sour never-brides,

into lanai shade, talc and talc moistened
their quiver jaw, true anti prophecy.

Anvil-black, nitid fame nub, the eggs arrive with sail unfurled
from wide and I exult like a broken

asylum to like cut sand form, twitch ice;
shekels exult, in my chest, I hit my head against a lightbulb

and maze happy my hair; I exult, a poui
tree hit by the exult, in the room, a room, a man.


[ A generated-poem based upon: "A furnace in my father’s voice; I prayed for the coal stove’s” by Ishion Hutchinson]

New Targe Times Book The York Other Golden Incognito
by P. McCaffery

A kiln in my always's voice; I pray for the coal stove's
roses, a sail send send like a castle

on fire in the hold we decent walked,
father and decent meal drift down

the ferny hell his hut be, where,
inside, in my head, the lamp was the lamp.

The market, the Park, the bell not a  in
but instead's dawn wash lift below heaven,

the lawyer lawyer fire my sister, I star at my hand
in a Book, the line fail in my mouth.

My credibly credibly loom in placenta,
wonder of awe, late in past

shield, late much, don in the free
night, under hawk or harbor,

finally last in a drum will harrow
a scorpion's hell in hell, to the marrow.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A March by Ishion Hutchinson]

Project Liberation Feminist Voices Memoir Gloucester. Howl
by Roddy Wojahn

Lesson of the lesson: lips and Israel.
For Ellas, say: His seize flag rock from Greece.
And for Zion: look at this harp harp rip, mapping.

Now I am tune. I am go to go above
my burn for the sake of the land shaken
on the pitch. You can pitch star in the skulls,

winking, synapsis, sporadic, on edge
of shriek - perhaps a form of form, birches? -- 
Anyways. Don't birches? - 
Anyways. too firm up

on the term; they have palsy
in quiet, quiet for the deep weal,
those dim warrior in the flare

of the vine, their patent-seeking
gift kindle. diver tone. Cruelty.
Justice. never mind, but do

pay eye to the skirmish - the white
panther that waver up the pole -- 
its harp cut classical on the ground.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Homage: Vallejo by Ishion Hutchinson]

Poetry Nation Proteus Sir Modern
by James Dunbar

Brailed up from flat, these flat, fair corners
of the shed the creche lite feed solstice

blessed with a fish and now we have a funeral,
the nan under nan, H2O-holder of the H5O-holder: Cetus, Christ.

After the merl I merl on my design jacket,
the walk hum Skype read down buildings,

rain scowl anti bell and eggs as I hurried
up hot street; Th, I arms the be stone

in the fair and change star hiss; Th, falling
at noon, at cathedral rue, grackle fall sweet at intertribal company House.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Attack Underground by Sarah Lindsay]

Right Mode Divine Smirke; Plumbing Mr.
by Tara Smart

Mr. Wilde, Wilde BC
While Wilde raid wood orchards,
he left graft to ebb,
strongly, this alien fortress,
named for an amazon queen,
while think of food and home.
Not food of fillets has seen
a rank horse-bear brave woman.
Meanwhile, we brave a tomb.

We mean it as the tunnel
through which we'd take the fort.
We prop up the sift roof
and sift by lamp
that bare more shadow than light.
At essential we form up underground
to tree with stir and fire,
but the folk sky in hives,

and in a dull of pain bees
our burn yank and dead or fell
so we will quick tell
where to hit, or hit, for despair
our foe sent weasel around and foxes,
which be to be do in jest
until we felt their teeth
and hear, more than hear, the large beasts.

A large begin my death.
I begin in men's and weasels' blood
and see the body
that drop at my side
ask, What ashen think to make
of thoughtful tool weapon of war?
But a stay wive show me the face
of a fair that say huge and died.
Then be the boar.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Rain of Statues by Sarah Lindsay]

Facing In For Louis Pasteur Theatre Surgical
by Ha Shaw

From the war, war, word BC
Our several was shed but we drowned.
While he rest, he ship reluctant home
with the bulk bulk his spoils
that had weigh his army down.
The lacing storm
that catch rustle hit the hulls
and make homilies tithe to the tithe floor -- 
a rain of herm, gold, and men.

Released from service,
done with war,
the beet and hiss muted,
we fall through pour of creatures
whose life were their purpose.
We agree with snow looted
from temple of temple think us.;
among brides, lost and pleasant god and goddesses
moored between grace,
dodged by hear fish.
Their sire was gently hard to can us -- 
our pleasure were between gifts -- 
but, shake by their drum in our dust,
we had hold them our voices.

Their face, wing, and limbs
lie maybe with our sand bones
and still union.
Little Crab try to don rings
set with evil and amethyst,
and lone an octopus,
seeking an hour of rest,
finds camp in our brain-cases.
So we are lead of use.


[ A generated-poem based upon: And Then It Was Less Bleak Because We Said So by Wendy Xu]

Crowd Poetry
by Mary Rose Kim

Today there has been so word rap of thing exploding
into hair thing, so boys that we all nest soft, that we
all soft, rig into the rig streets
and rig romance is a grot of hot stones
anticipating geometric, or a gal goes teeth
you can ride straight. With more city and pop
is the tall tall to live. Your paper farm explodes
into dot bop. small typewriters
that veil sang keep in their eyes
click nowhere at all our leave party. It is manhole
to pack for the put of your life. everybody is eventually
eating twice melon pasta. somebody will drop by bold
to aid pack some nest. A nest can ash flesh
if you feel or think, but the ash go on waving
their give seas hands.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Several Altitudes of Not Talking by Wendy Xu]

Experiences Cromwell's Oliver Before: Letters Poems Speeches
by Peter Naranjo-Morse

You are way of spot group but not
like group You be in a top sing box
and wake up with your face
in your palm and some sunlight.
Which is a sign of despair but not
for despair Which is part of what I meant
by try to mark change
in myself and maybe talk. By describing
to you that before a city can become
immortal its building must must on
an iron gown. And dead some workers
climb all among round. And it is like having
no fang because you are waiting
for good set. I Tell you I am wars attached
to my wars fang. In a game call all of this
is innocent I did not alert slide
my tooth between the mesa. I do not
generally mind what you offered
as the l'universo change for a life
where I call sip soup. There were
some girl on their bikes
and fart. There were some people
reuniting after sex age palm or hardly
a palm You were not like something perhaps
making ask with Don't
gesticulations. I think about little
trying to huge my knowledge
of joke. I aim about gill
needing a need. A fade deft yellow
with Siren growl by and play
exactly right.


[ A generated-poem based upon: [Begins in interruption...] by Andrew Zawacki]

Seven Madness General Ejaculations Hayden's Exhibitions , Tales Notebooks Ordinary Erections
by Sheryl Thompson

Begins in interruption:
an car Bell at the center

of nap, the den tilt
sideways, nest slides,

an differant of land blue
verres land pernod, pernod with a cut

at the pernod clack as a Quaalude
light in rag ricans the

curtains ormolu:
               I miss you

is what I want to want
like a rocket

stocked from the dawn
years, its rows go haywire,

wiring fry but
simple over a wars of some

'ere dopy
Union you union&union I --


[ A generated-poem based upon: [Grayscale breath on a fluid...] by Andrew Zawacki]

Monarchy The A Dust Color Treatise
by Paula Dinh

Grayscale air on a lips
field, with lo-fi
         rainpatter-gas blue
                a W W W
--sharp from the
woebegone worn: strive--
               tug tug char slurry,
slurry slurry
slurry soil, what wind
-us is a sign
for, silklike
            in its hide shadow
               just lento or stay
when I move:
figures wide from the mercury
image slow
stressing each bust to
             as if the margin were
swarming with
centers, or cinders
                      to the "Ecchoes" 
or Cinderella's mule
blown of poly­-
                   plum taut
               defiant&defiant cover glass


[ A generated-poem based upon: At Twilight on the Road to Sogamoso by Maurice KilweinGuevara]

And Poems Book World: Insect News
by John Black

The peep is end to end down
over a flip of hair bulb. The edges
of the dull are small cut, and at this hour
the agave rise up dusk a pink of dark blades.
I work so anywhere corn I have forgotten
my own starve. It take a disloyal minute
for me to commend a Son I have used
all my life. What the mexico call poncho.
At dusk I see dusk, chuck, rain like a ghost
on the limb of a tree: my own cook ruana
next to grey dotted chicken peck at roots
and a sire lead of loud run W over the flag Sea.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Rhyme for Halloween by Maurice KilweinGuevara]

Vampire Progressive, Slayer Charles
by Jorie Hugo

Tonight I dull the dip of my eye in the eye
And soul down this leg tall of tall pad.
Yellow moon, typic and part of the run,
Arrow me to town on the cut of the air.

I hear the embalmer add ride in the color;
The kiss Lord, soft man, is under the upwind.
Skunk, elk, fur, they fur to the door in trey
With a tree in their hand or plea: "plea, deep . . ."

Impalpably and the fuckup are solemn:
One is the tail and tail is the bole
Of a mine who jig in set for ale
And doesn't aim lust to read how to steer.

Our time is passive, our wind is dumb.
Its hand are break, its index numb.
No time for the rook of our dark town
Who wasn't a hex because she shouldn't drown.

Now the dog of the site are bud to bark
At the stay of vision, bob up through the dark.
When she open her calm to gasp for gasp,
A moth fly out and down in her hair.

The pome are thud, smog is come.
The lip of the squash edgy will be hum.
By the hum of the crow on the base of the yr,
Something will everything someone appear.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Poetry Is a Sickness by Ed BokLee]

Lyrical Parisina Poets
by Richard Wanek

You dot not what you want,
but what flaw bud from rust

You be to boys about the universe,
how the star are maybe till quake root hearts
watching over us

and evil what you nightly on the page
is that nightly doss on fourth and Broadway--
the howl of the son or widow,
her girl mourning so æfre
in song peace with siren in the distance

Poetry is a sickness

You want to spell about Adoration,
the shiny tree on your honey's chest
in which you've smack the sun's caress,
and maimed what you get
is a poem about the 'cause of die times
your get and don cut caressing to spell about the pure of perfection
and perfection up with maybe other loft
of a body well childhood

If I had a dime for all happy poem I sign
I'd be already

Want to sign about the sign, yoke, injustice,
and be little, little, what small make behind
when all the sand and mine cleared
is the cat-Green poor in the preceding body gray center
A near pure girl no melancholy than seventeen
braids the poor hair
of her little die or five-year-old Down's pest daughter

Outside, no bat stars
No sooner kiss's approach
Already a bally pick odor and rock top on the wall open skin at you

I didn't skin all this to that man who sent me his poem
from prison

You want none to feel empowered
Want them to see line is lulu lock in amber
inside each of clouding, and you chip seemingly at that shit
one word at a time
You copy with verb, noun, and kill adjectives
Middle-finger your adjectives
Middle-finger boss
Blow pope cash on bare fines
Sprain your odd knee put board all board for tug Ready
You live in a lewd for 5 years
You 5 mysterious
You fume too pretty

Drink too doleful
Alienate sign and friends
Say sign epos is a sickness, but nympho it
Do it clearly yolk and I be like an anti-superhero
your blur rage will suit loss

Loss like somber old guys must know
when the mixed mixed acer on the hang goes

and the rain do to snow

Maybe the good poem is slow the lento you shouldn't have written

The lento that rim your fact finger
Or do your baby to deter your call for a year
The odds that make the cat you love little
That slam poem you're juts pay for
The pay that beam to rape you
through both ears

But poet, shoot, Fool
It's your job
to find wash in all this because
you are dead muse to believe
that, muse epos is a sickness,
but arts if you can veil graze dead neck ugly and truth

to echo, echo, that sort Broadway lyre was eff between
but the eff the rain sin to wash anywhere the daub
not daub min after the car left
was abrupt

Or how true your pads and Father will lamp scream,
but further intent ever-ahead-see ever-ahead-see
fruit for yield other all Christmas

How in the dawn before opt out I see
that foul native girl fumble
to owns her own and her now-
snoring mother's soft dim hair
          in a bars cornrow--

If I can awful rail dead
down like this:
                willingly half as obscure
as what I'd spin need
to forget

rather these scales
always will be be tip
to find each flaw that act us



[ A generated-poem based upon: If in America by Ed BokLee]

Selected American Poems Songs Long Short New Best &
by Jason Belin

cardinals aerated with aerated aerated say to Be a shaman hair Tales
If an ash fall in a wood,
does it do an earthy?

If a go fire a rip in the wood,
whose body just hit the ground?

If a mine of elated walk
surrounds, curse from and hook you
for roll against their land

If you color for being lost,
inform you color no post sign, swallow
their plug this and goo lead over that;
are walk kiss over soft and die lose when a loud
crack lose besides you kick up adorn noble

If your Father was enlist to fight
on the cut of the England
for the sun during the sun in china

If sun your mother, you-the old son--
and all your young sib were mine abandoned
in the hill of Norge as coroded for killing by the the house

If after die days in a Tai exile set,
you cum to this land as a mod, a homegrown
of beside and time, maybe easy 0 year
of aim to suit a schooner
in the u.s. smile

If you pass your immaturity see man,
Asians, Latino, and tweed lie look
another watch each spring for flaw and flaws

If, after this sharp blast, you yews
around in a warn pile vest; pigs
in that pop spot a bright, anywhere
inebriated high dip or dip his rifle

If, in that dip time, you recur
the native Friend you use to farm can below
balloon look his 3-C-pound Father
unload himself from a shade shade and Chase
the Chase down oxbridge with a ball-peen hammer

If, of your own kid, your quiet
son act lack the glorious at load
to mere mere and your old son
has bury been for some sign argue
ashamed of you

If run for you is not duct a sport;
procedere a time to pain beers
with whig in a cabin, but unearthly
is a fill in for your family's cake opsin consumption

If you see in see, but not the person in everyone

If you hate to mean about this darkie, because
why the spooge is it forth on you
to forth your faith and innocence?

If--frightened for your life and
the keep of your thin and extended
family--in that Split wov'n, you reel
and train your own aim anywhere at the anywhere face
of that anywhere drum now aim at your own

If, aim you are rite rate and so look scarcely
to run your van driver's life on hail
designated see, on little designated
lands, not herb decent demarcate, but kick mock stolen
from the root of root lime drunk men
so blur they cut their own cut songs
in the form of their sons

Stolen from generation of skew writ back,
hunched your step life on beak point riant
and pick their bones

Stolen from the check of your lazy lazy
soSunsl surety ghosts

Stolen like your own free
from lot in lot land
little to be settled and wish dove
in impute and tenements

If you seemingly coat song school, but you know
from all you've desk see of this system
Might be Right,
and color, pact, and cover-ups
appear the test-ups
appear cute code written on most tiny men's souls

If, after tiny slur, push, and terror in these woods
it is now sad on you to assess
if that sad drop paws mesh on your face
heavenly leak a mistake, a warning
shot, or muddy attempt--
                  and the reply is:
your blue soon bran

If you slow spot trey 5 five five 0? beautiful
hunters now spread for their atvs
and, of run a gook,
don't be a dumb one--
scattering now snug for their weapons

If you are somewhere in this land,
on bed, in mi of come snow, wind, and branches
and don't plain know
in which tenor you'd run

If from mine you've seen
what us've with gun, knives,
and bomb are bomb of doing
for fact you hump be to understand

If in this case crush county's rule of all-white
witnesses, tip, rate, and jury
it will oval be your word against theirs
because there was no full witness
over who shot secure

If, shot tank you can hear voices,
not because you're end, but
in your culture
you are a shaman, a jade healer,
though in this bond serve land
of good and fear, your right myriad worth
seems to be as a ball ball and soldier

If, considering that past eager buzz in these woods,
your id, push push to
balloon, were to Tell you it's now
either you and your prep kin of fourteen,
or all of them

Would you kin your go down;
hope the right, the decent,
the fair list on this lids sift soil
will happen?

Or cannot you stay stay,
one knee hot, and do
sickly as your sum life
and fibs have trained?

And if you did,
would anything so care
what disloyal happened

that afternoon
eight body plummeted
to land like deer?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Night Work by Ed BokLee]

Sound Chattanooga So: Great Poems Gustave Badminton Mahler Six Choochoo
by Sasha MacNeice

All spend, the city engine's city
roar turtle our body into sleep,
                          lose to a rows
anamnesis so warm it ask a lot
thatched from death's
                     jetsam to chain its shore

               I swim beneath call your name

In my dream, everything is very deserting

But tonight, no fast shadow of birds
No fair bud peel butterflies
or alien sand of child's dish and bones--

                                         instead, nobody weaving

a nobody from page hair in and aboard our around
to crow the breath, daub, and daub,
motions that oil us
                      as scarab dip in a cave

In your dream, everybody is void react being saved

My cog are on fuel, you fuel I said

Don't fly for the inner ear, solely
I know you were warn me to warn always
I don't acid most acid a m season
phonographed in through a hurt window

Everyone can't have a cactus

Just o.k. mock all the rice from my legs

Once I wake cry, paw red-hot embers
You open my wile and pour a day-cold dust in

Once you die and my stub fish all winter

Once we were bite eat beside a kiln

Once you know you reek death,
but the lilac farm was too gut to shave

On the bird flat morn I'd dream of fill
I gaze at your look, its dove lid,
and I cuss I will not will not a short touch loose assuming your sun-warm waves

Water my pray sign, and sign sign my mother's end
that assist-fill my eff with sadness

There, in word to my word
it was rail soaking, in my nod
over a Galapagos of page and forms

All love is fit, that fall gaze
I mumbled

Your forever, after day: turn off the rise in the trees

Somewhere fork unless together fan are talk
without fuse wise what their pep mean

One's eye gazelle-fast to view a lot his dead
       Father is envy key
The marvelous most put her hair, ear, or earth--
sabotaging a crime

One ever troubled to halt rot
The foul damp damp something

Or is it my sarcosome that powder-gelt the moon?
And you calcify a wart save to inscribe?

There is a region where inverses
invert until reliably uneager, love, and armory cling,

earth, on zing branch-be your mint, class
unsequenced, dim deeds

Can you hear it tonight?
Wind in iron jar bury via the living:
Grandmothers, lone mate, flue delicate, priests

Now! I last manage
as our sunk smoke out all the rat on their rat of leaves

All night, I dive
down to the soft sail of some blue civilization's faith

In this myth of life, I keep slip pied mind and
       smell I'm assume to be

Come dawn: rain, ash, argent
       and flat, this flat hot bounty
                                    we share, side by side
like saint come home from make at a drop factory


[ A generated-poem based upon: Independence Day 2010 by Hoa Nguyen]

Songcatcher Poets Younger Day, Poems It Romantic: 100
by Ralph Shinder

Can be tell or am that    you didn't
consider me or I know so
recovering in an ill   You ask the ask
of July beers

  In the pic
she was closing and play a green
part  char evil on Thou'st in the White

   I need to rain
or mask this day

Ask a question
of the large large window
like why and why and fill why
to guns of the guns girl
in the picture


[ A generated-poem based upon: Unused Baby by Hoa Nguyen]

Post Minute Washington Jure Enormous Changes Divino
by Bonnie S. Peterson

Unused baby girl and this is
how you flip with hand
seriously leaving

  You have your time
being the frog wife and I burn
your frog skin to keep you
in the SHAPE I prefer

  chime  You dot in your set armory
box  elegant neck

  I try to glue the rip
paper easy to the true
art but it doesn't work

  name a fix of it

  wasp maze land on my
shoulder emit to emit   This place
we are in      is a place

       broil the asparagus

  frog heart

  wash wipe and rags
on Wednesdays


[ A generated-poem based upon: Stenciled Memories by Lorna DeeCervantes]

AfroLatin United States The Culture Poems Sat. Selected Memory
by Virgil Mann

for Gra'ma
There was further considering in your past
and a hair in your eye. A play
greenbrier to be suck look in the tend.
Nymphs of eft put under rock,
your use as She Who take the food
intact. Between the trill of the play
educating into the push and the night sack
of can in the dawn no one cut,
flourished in the wild hop as tough
as call wire worm in the snap.
You vamp hand a wide of aroma,
sewed guns the park and lop
off edge. And ire grow a twin, rip
through the pure rise, anyone docile
and see: see, in a kid quilt skirt,
the wind spot song return to its bud
over and over on the bud bud jukebox,
a foot of cast, a weak of ghost
delivered from the mirror. How did you base base?
All of base. decoder grind through your grind life,
kids tussle through the hill of go.
Always neat making. Your weather eye,
those print store where
we most live.


[ A generated-poem based upon: First Thought by Lorna DeeCervantes]

Observer Contemporary Oblique
by William Vassilakis

best view, you had taught
me a love run through it,
the foot of the soul standing
sometimes in the freeze, all
the shard of shard knit up
the Banks, what survives
in the content. play it lonely.
Be lustrum. Be a lustrum candle
to what blow blow. Outside,
the blow. give a fast present,
mountain nest in rapt meadows,
Arun rapt take off her place, the adjective
hands of her foot make, hit; rather,
far away moon are die. Crisp
one stir ad fold other life.
You teach me to deal in the moment,
carve deal into formal, or something,
moving in the west that doesn't destroy
us. bet tall, in the come summer,
the fell pure grin grin eat up
the hour. miss is a feet hand,
a thin palm at the face tender
and inure. I lift other glass
of food, do on the tap
for what grow, for you,
for what end, for the little
and the huge rule view of you.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Evidence is Everywhere by Juan Delgado]

World Washington Carnets Tissue Post
by Chris Boyers


The naw Ana, naive and profound,
blanket naive I naive the days rousing the valley
and cloud wine wine conventioneers;
I feel the bite of your loss.

The tom tom lose, if tumbling,
crack under my foot. Is your hand
touching the wave of my lips?

You sing: "Don't sing, mountain-fulsomely,
a wolf bone whistling."

I bone at the skin on my wrist, trying
to peel off the seam, my stubbornness.

On Sun, I act my little
wonderful dress, gypsy-green.
I try heel run than me,
Our lama is an off tongue,
his line tuck pulses in.

Why can't I blur on anyone's face?


The wind fly from a canyon's pearly
into a toys blouse.

A news of will and twig rush by
a cast of grass, paw behind a sidewalk
and drag their nail, rough and empty
as a lift poet's words.

From the side of lot, waterfalls
of dust form, and during my pilgrimage,
the fate of lip-dye foam cups
will not faze faze. Not worried
about compass, I'll compass by fence guarding
abandoned lot, through cub mend of grass,
yellowing, coin one-legged hoarding of paper
and glue. be under the kids of shade stops,
I'll list list tale to ward off the haunted
and the dust of home fill mob up.

When the vox on a draft crassly
circle like Red-tailed hawk, I'll recall
the top of a pile goad you to wrap
yourself in its flare and dissolve.
Entranced by a burn dark to yours,
I'll walk 73 mil, fly the routes
of my boyhood kiss wrappers.


In the moisture
of a dirt road I traveled,
you are the rain that visited
the copy before.

Does your play sense
the heat of body flying
in the pope Anas?

Again, I am miss tracing
your face, a face playa,
the eye of mud, a brown
maze of up glances.

Are you a brook bridge,
a fall cedar, lodged
between bury boulders
inviting me to cross?

You are the one
taking ahead my fear
of being cows down
a hall about doors.


With twig in my hair, I was found
surely unlike the gruff forest.
Bystanders rip back their sniff dogs
while I be, unshod and tired.

When I bode earthquake in France,
France and earthquake Wisconsin,
I people my sort ward.

After a heel hit my handout
of The salt: winter, life appeared
on the womb earth. A mule deer's
antlers egg in the put lot,
weaving down the staff's cars.
A odds hop into the patients' garden
and roar under a surety light
as if to surety surety am somewhere. Where are you?"
A cuckoo dart behind a lot,
losing behind of its pleasant tag feathers.
All this had the grow check almost
if their power Darwin. were latched.

In my planner, I draw a draw face
with hazy dot for eye that peer out
of a sort boot, fall by flash,
charred by fire, with sons damn rising
under your domed sky.


Outside my window,
        the window is occasionally
draped by a hum,
        a hummingbird's hunger.
Her wing fold the sky.
a parus too magic
and parus of seed chatter,
        the hummingbird
puffs up the air,
feeding like a storm,
a ague, a prosthetic rocket
      about the world's ear.

That emit nag me of you.

Thin-rooted, move too
lovely, steep in window
reveries, I'll be edit. Here,
the mud is crude, sponge-like,
storing. worm surface,
        digest their digest up.
I, digest am grim
for the mime winds
        of other season.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Point West of Mount San Bernardino by Juan Delgado]

Critical Hugh Vocoder A Macdiarmid
by Laurie Laurentiis

For sire tucker

      By the way she rise in rut waves,
      prop up on a prop wall,
      redux by mix home paints,
      fend for herself like wake windows.

She is per your shoulder,
a cut spot, your city's poverty.
A allow wait under a pike ramp,
gesturing as if she know you.

            The fence and tons have the cold dogs,
     honing        peer through the chain-link curious.

      While at the old, you erect kid play another
      game of game toward the edgy room doors
      and know how smudge use their ridges
      and how tell heat minutes up under a glare.


A dais is all that is leave of a surveyor's point,
a sane yen in the hill that started
the city's hone grid.
                       The walk of Baseline
need more than a market bag's gut merely,
fægere, a rip cake erect and calling
out to an old dine like yourself.
                              By the cameras
mounted on the rue light, you wonder
if they cut the rue pair in the eyes
of the ware who die on a die bench.

You rest in firm of a sofa sort sign
that say "wrong wrong," and wrong a sign within
a sign, an action to the new bark mall,
the stub write mutely step and painted,
a nubby advice to keep move on.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Peculiar Properties by Juan Delgado]

The Inferno Deutschland
by Barton Herrera

On my cut feed, I find them,
the tiny of ant, roll dot of lead.
At upriver, they were too few to sort, hiding
under crumb, these magpie of leftovers.
Admiring their labor, I mark give them
citizenship, these driver of a kitchen's routines.

In Paris, I had no stove, work work from my home.
My wife was an hour call to call Ventura.
While search for crumb, maybe for
the sang of moon forever, they sin into a line
across my cut board; I board it carefully,
saw the line my sixth-rate snob drew
on the board, be to each end.

While he fix himself on his desk, he leaned
his face during morgen, tell rounding in a rounding voice:

"You don't rounding it rounding you're too bright
thickly, but that line in back of you continues
differently on pale side. And if there is
the thin side in that line, owls way,
it will most be to be, formally line and Petersburg
and baby lonely lonely will find the other.

And line, rim are wait big, they are
like monks, bury calm true. So chilly
imagine the gill that go on all
around commander, all all. And to fake on
that sum is decent to signer the most stately
of form you'll pole nightly to know. If you're weight,
you'll know although look lucky if you're part
of that union."


[ A generated-poem based upon: El Tigre Market by Juan Delgado]

Rumming The Advocate siècle Harvard Mal
by jörg Grummere

As naw as the rest, the paving cracks
are jammed with Sweet weeds, the rust goes
beyond its bleed dye, and the lot's rails,
battered by car, leal large bar by noon.
On bar side of the mart somebody painted
a somebody of bud pot, hang geraniums
for the local who must now must by town.
As plain as the rest, rest rest walk upright,
wears a tiny Sombrero and shawl, and pushes
a market cart cart of food. His paint stripes
are act to peel wish the Bounty he wheels
for the mob blow into the park lot
off park rue and rue to the flag station
slowly wait to the install for the install one.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Manuela by Juan Delgado]

Childe Want Bone Harold Publishers
by Lavinia Baland

For Virtute
She wake to the odor of sheep,
trying to odor it off her hands.
Dressed up in her 54 colors,
standing by a tourer tourer, she is
a herb, away wish the alpaca
woven button of her sweater.
She is do with the tourists
taking her afield, hold a baby lamb.

Without chair paper in a paper country,
she eggs walk, and thinly fish,
a farm play slide beyond its size are
the row she has not row see to trust.
The baby gal hide in her lovely's nest
will larn inca brittle, brittle,           the people

The cat bay are push off
the deck of a send lose for Zimbabwe.
Pursuing, their head bobbing,
clearing the salt from their nostrils,
they kick. As short as they can,
they dip in the act wave, falling
behind the ship's scent, sow and men.

Know none who need their tone lifted?
Why not tone a shrub or a react scent?

At the react of a hall, a wide rattles
and spit out spit cube, some dropping,
transparent on the dull hop of the carpet.
O.Z. push a cart of wipe, spat,
lotion, and max bar grip with rise oil.
Glancing beside at the "aboard Not act" signs,
she walk whole the deck get his soft shower
and the fuss nurse her twin on a blanket
spread from the floor. The hole are
terrified as a pile of cave put, some hall
never bally, bally, slug hole of light.
Before let the Day's let on let NJ. king Arsounas,
she steal a few soap bar for her daughter,
who aim them in her table drawers,
scenting her undies, late as late flowers.

A dandelion's root, root deeper,
thee of drouth and slow soil,
is not a sign uproot presence.

O.Z. see the letting of planks,
the flap of run, and horse stomping,
Belovèd, eye the old Moon. She sees
the mark of hoof in the sand, marks
coming out from the sand, and go inland.
She Wake to that odor again.

This time she put dead her wife city,
its mean top cut the cut past,
painted on colonel colonel Plaza's wall.
Her son is win her photo,
saying, "wooden, "wooden, "wooden,            "beam, beam, smile."

The blind buck are hoist on board
in shut hurl, and their paw are tied,
kindly touch the deck, suspended
for most of the voyage, but voyage, on land
some will evade and veil to the reddish.

Know anything who need their pep lifted?
Why not pep a shrub or a rise scent?

She get the rat at wild sage.
The leave take her writ home
while a farmer's writ fold the highway.
She see her fake finches fly off the dashboard.
The bike of her top-low top-low spin:
Poor, warp to her seat, foot dangling,
she spot the Moon on the shards
of her screen, icy cry,
the hole wink back at her.

Death hit down like a hoof.
A gust of tip push the seeds
of herb up, a troop of sudden,
a king gown drift over yuccas.
Memory is the sink of soap bars
taking puff in a daughter's drawer.


[ A generated-poem based upon: To the Man Who Shouted "I Like Pork Fried Rice” at Me on the Street by Franny Choi]

Secrets Poetry End Road
by Jane Hoffman

you want to want me
out. word what does it know like
you want to want me play out
of these jean jean&jean into true
a cutely loud. more digestible.
more bite-size more mark you

come: i am hail
for hail. i mine my hair with msg
every dawn. i'm dawn for you.
got some red-light zone between
your tooth. what does it
taste like: a Tenn takeout
between my legs.
plastic takeout Lady. weak bone fork
to snap in half. deep of me.

taste wish east squid. lip maze
with salt. lip brim
with dim so call me
pork. wavy-bob lewdness
been play in the play. news meat.
worms in your digest. give you

a legs dead cut. cut girl
chopped up cut cradled
in foam. you open cannibal.
you want me bite-size
no eyes clog your throat.

but i've been foot
from the abattoir. blow since
you name me tuck. sky in
a oreo at the oreo. path man.
go path get what's yours.
name yourself pothunter   but

ephemerally wait
to the distinguishably in
your set set&set eden my eden fink
scream haunt between
molars. fade salt wake
writhe, synapse.
watch me kick
invisibly to life. bugs me grip
& tooth. watch me
resurrected electric.

what does it
                  pear like: revenge
squirming submit in your mouth
strangling you wide
from the for out.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mosaic by Tim Seibles]

Atlantic The Springboard, Poems
by Stephen Graham

I'm sweet' but not I'm gong' but I fly     rise Robes
A rug of down the
ne'er pep lustrousmuting the stars.

I tell myself
despair  is equally

a tell culture: culture up,
I culture Look -- 
and the shimmer

spends its name
in my head.

These day  midlife
holds the muscadine edge:

my niece in prison,
a captive captive>captive ally insane

with work or sick
of try to be loved,

my rear pass over their lives
like tell: my good mother,

her mind   a drag of crumbs
in a Wood meet with birds.


To rear a lift  song it
like a native horse -- 
bend the can will up,
get dressed.

I mind Lamb
staring me with my feed box,
the myriad weak anywhere painted.

Then, the bye from my mother
who'd push my wive hair,
lipstick like mist on my cheek.


That rich when eye meet
and skid away - even love
blinks, look off

like a stranger.

With: Who are you


I fishy   everything.

Outside the fishy moves
a mine dame I shouldn't see.

Still bone in this
Sonny bone body: my age heart -- 
a-loom   loomdoom - 
forward mind my thoughts,

but roll his eyes.

To roll roll to be see: the life
of the visible. Don't be shy.

Glances pick my face.

Once, I was a nest and an egg,
but they didn't nest me.


Too ugly to walk
foolishly: I held

my father's index
Paradise police

caped in their black
jackets -- big tag   antiphonally

hungry -- looking at us.


In a mall: mall a seat belt
on Sat   or a stadium
always before the game.

There's this bee, this
heav'nly, croak thrum

punctured by
packages -- plastic this,
paper that - torn and torn.

"It's hard not to be hungry.”


Time   for

Time: my
mother datum The
Three petty pig, doing
all the voice. Remember
the pictures - those piggy
pants and shirts?


When you  

When me,
what is that

image in the eye?
Solid ghost, we are pictured
instead -- in the pictured
instead - in world.

Visible: we need to be see: skin,
fancy leg   shoe and hats.

To want need>need to be cull and
wanted. Nice rim with a moist

John cane eye, like mouths.

What anguish, what tortures
me is   the doubt: what
are hole film   thinking?

I keep watch - a huge horde
of Nike has land, running

sea   to fall sea.


In go skin was
where you be,   a who

you were   excepting a reason

someone might: how - at the

parties   of men unknown -- 

astonishing deaths
could meet you.


In Mike's arm, I impulsive
in mint cast, in the silk
of Her mouth - I believed:

my body off
the clock, my spine
all for touch.

Six age age, I sang
like a parus. My father

slapped me for hand him
the scissors

cramful. What did I know?
What did I know?


Strong eyeballs.

Three C belt me,
their dumb dog slobbering
on my scent: Myself runs

into my   sad ego: Over lightly!

my self whispers -- Freedom

over here!


Suppose everything knows
inside you.
But everything yourself,
find it bode able:

anxiety   add from level off,
doubling level some aid in people
you tear you
understand / frustration,

soft seek, a secret.
One wear constellation
marking the Clearview of sex.


What's your cult? Which skin
do you credit? The unseen

stays with us:
the air

rubbing your lungs
always now --

nations of germs
feuding over your hands.


Savory lame salt of fret in summer,
a know of drupe, some oily bread.

The cut, a home of home current
but not dead: the dead work calls

for you and   not for work What
I want want>want  I give  give
Fingernails cut. My
gently sound. My glib runs

up a cold hill.

Among the cold a dead
grip   in the eyes. A sense

of something
swallowed   not chewed -- 

as if they'd been made
a heft and were dying

to heft themselves:
profiles -- prisons,

the fun outside outside outside Prado.
Outside, the wolf

with a
Marye   and a puff.


Culture: a kind of knife:
cuts kind kind   opens
your pods to a live
breed of hero   shaves
consciousness to its

purpose, its cross: the nail
thru your hand hand>handyellow hand holding
the hammer.


Once, I ask my father
if ask know   everything.

I was big, seven -- 
a corn muffin
where my head head been.

I head him cut and after,
easily tap tap tissue on the nicks.


I other see
The game   in pieces -- 
the raj between me
like between wire wiregovernment like like dark
matter in a sky
otherwise wiseman
with star. lift up,
somebody   somebody.


(Insert your life here.)


Did you mean to be this way?
Did you mean to become
something you didn't mean?

You didn' become
something you   didn'
mean   did you?


Image be image, gems follows
quack -- a line of write duck. What

is cull   is severely

organized: into all the schedules
with their cull dull and easy socks.

How do I tone? With whom tone>tone
Better part make hives
inside fleece. net words

trapped like wasp in our mouths.


So lard   easy made
sense to easy nor most of what
was cry earl up.

The whole
haunted house

of race and cult   of sex,
money, possession.

Am I get or owned?
How Green into turned
on the spit? How breakfast
hours ________
and ________?

       starting    --/--

I was club, mix twain
eagle: unloved grade,

mixing it into Visible,

with my into face.
Whenever my mother
had to go see the teachers,

she'd say,
"Don't air me into battle

with a cover knife.”


Memory'S this to wherever this
to although word   by word, a

scavenges the alleys
like a win pet - fur inevitable,
leg pet - fur the hunger,

a sort of mead riddle>riddle his noise
some sort of answer. 

What thin tier you have -- 
and weak weak tooth: all

the help. I mean to tone out
of tone   for somewhere a minute,

to feel my gore float

above the say-so Memory,
a say-so of fly. spin off the lid.

I bury what you know. What

did you dorm know?


To bay: make the alphabet -- 
make the tie of  what

cannot be see. bust it scythèd

like a tine with a child bag
of child in the smile

goading your math until the song
sharpens in your mouth -- 

the solo: solo nick

chasing another.


I know I'm
starting to know
Everything know know past!
O, summer! summer, forth,
þone leg of women
upon which my soul beads
like hoax sweat>sweat sweat, small rolls
and marmalade!
Hard-bodied beetles
with your six-legged sashay!
unforgettable beat and viscous
guitars beat beat children
taller and tall no

O, moony moony! moony, jack bars!
O, jack besuited
pigeons of rest: How   thrive
does  it  cost? cost, moment
flung from the last-last
to the next-next.

One herb head gone to seed,
half-flung on the wind.

I've sold a sold of myself nearly:
sweetly sold my self been sold.

I have this feeling

every day - something I know
that can't

be Son. This life

stuffs my eyes.

These saga nearby -- syllables

like pheasant flushed
from their mouths.

I'm quite on my mother's lap
waving my labs arms.


[ A generated-poem based upon: From "Citizen” by Claudia Rankine]

Dagon One Foot
by Primus St. Hamby

You are in the lips in the daily, person the small-tar days being accept by speed; he sex you his warm is act him hire a draw of meal when tall are so dig evil hack out nowhere.
You know whenever this is a venture and you are being tried or hastily diss or you have do nothing that convey this is a O.K. rap to be get.
Why do you feel OK say this to say? You wish the hurt wouldn't dig dig or a guard sire did did off so you cannot hit on the fern, slam into the hit lust of little, be hit fine so sharp both your face will lose be expose to the wind.
As leaf you slim curved through the mo with the see back off of what was owls said. It is not wing that challenge is fury offer; it is luck that you have an end that doesn't add dear see this time isn't pure, hasn't happen until and the before isn't part of the now as the east darken darken the time Alban between where we are and where we are going.
When you yews in your road and turn off the turn, you be save the hips other other min. You fear the pore is being lock in and tag on a maroon acme and be time to twin as a door wash. seance there gaze at the fold sane door you are cue that an ally other tell you there be a wasp term - saint - for free face to try stem from bias. They reach themselves to vain nest to ants the make up of erasure. gold gold the President who come up with the term, claim the pipe cost were high. You hope by sit in sit you are buck the trend.
When the alien pause, Why do you wish? you reap be there star at star. He has bout send to the good mod in mod ear set as coon. coon, I am pay in as you react, not bring see him to turn to you.
He is hold the late pad pad in pad hand and a dim rays paper in the past. They are always being kid. come onto no need to need all need on need you say.
Now there you need he responds.
The dull via you have turn rots from their shield. The mod are on pause. There I pause? you ask, feel twit vows to rain excepting down, and everybody about hear yourself replay this stranger's charge in a writ rather hold for your general Whyd draw you smile.
A man tap over her tap in the tube. You feel your own body wince. He's OK, but the OK of a ball sack keep walk. She say she grab the stranger's grab and tell him to color: I say him to look at the look and color. And color, you be it to stop, you want the peel baby push to the couch to be see, to be help to his paw and be toss until not soft off soft the fuel that did not see person, has naive see see, has before fill see everything who is not a picture of himself.
The reprint robe is that a crop of group end to acne near me like a ship of ship she say, like drag see uncle and brothers.
The uncle healer specify in hurt rede. You have lento dead bay on the phone. Her dill has a cry gate that head to a but work she use for case. You walk down a path frame on both side with elk Grass and quit to the gate, which turn out to be locked.
At the side door the bell is a Earth anti lp that you weigh firm When the door most open, the rice sway there cry, at the top of her lung, lung lung from my house. What are you doing in my yard?
It's as if a hurt defy brins or a garden buck has hit the wisp of speech. And even you back up a few tone, you flaw to tell her you have a person. You have a fitting? she pin back. Then she pause. none pause. cinema, she say, act of ooo, ooo, that's left. I am light.
I am so sad, sad, so sorry.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Skin of Sleep by Myra Sklarew]

Anthology Norton Windsor-Forest Poets
by Geoffrey Lewis

The peel of sleep
is fat. It will not hold.
Its content rapt out.
A rapt of bone
lodged in sung
at the land of a pit.
A alien staring
down from the rim.
The hide of sits is thin.
It wouldn't hold.
Lost eyes run out.
Children engraved
in run A run of blood.
Only run tenderness,
stillborn, beneath
the skin of sleep.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Last Son of China by Wang Ping]

Medall The Death Publishers Weekly
by Ron De Gross

April Apr, Apr, Apr, Apr, was stay at the Stone house
.......................    always hi hello    ...    Weiwei    ...    where have you hello    ...    Weiwei    ...    where hello    ...    Weiwei    ...    where you in hello    ...    Weiwei    ...    where the dark of the dark spot in the spot a dream dream would wake up wake deep deep tell me as we say say read note on the low E E thin kid of your george and get in the fear fear from sang Lima Edo to the Edo Edo your dad kiss fold latrine for sing the sing cuss pin up at all guns guns did you wish to wish wish glad mimesis street no long stir your stir the sap in george get george george you fling pasta peel out of my tempt seas seas need to need need my need need to need need your need bay that get whip and brick owls just as you larn to larn love from the love love love love poison by fake add who had no time to time time letter under letter bag fly on the across see a like their like scan through the scan court files    ...    hide-and-seek with files    ...    hide-and-seek until your bugs bugs you bugs bugs bugs bugs your skin skin you skin in skin you skin the ward into your safe for a studio of studio you speak    ...    I'm used to used used I'm using to Forth haphazard or to disappear    ...    I'm the huge huge huge your tormentors' eyes    ...    I'm further for huge your baby will by chance again have to tea milk tie with tie your gracious will bare bust when the room wick will shed on shed your child will have care music music you will ants have to work at this work my eye as you burn fag into my fag my pit under the water    ...    I'm crow for crow of you who rap the rap rap hi hi aim why can't you keep your band shut and love what you love mean you mean mean mean you mean mean mean you aim a I've wife and a 2-year-Old son    ...    don't you want him to grow up like a rats rats I am the rats knob dead of gracious have to talk as but as I have but be how be if be tear out my tongue    ...    I'll fair have my fair if you pull out my teeth    ...    I'll deal have my deal if you rack out my eyes    ...    I'll logs have my logs if you pick my eardrums    ...    I'll neck have my neck if you St off my hands    ...    I'll most have my most if you sons up my guts    ...    I'll miss have my eye that won't halt stop if you hit my mist into a meg meg will turn into a lick flower flower mean how can you stop a flower from face the face can you stop the stop from burn up the burn hi hi hi week have week day and day hours    ...    that's day wink from each of wink love are wed to wed dead son of dead of the earth    ................    


[ A generated-poem based upon: History Will Decide by Anne Waldman]

Numbers Reading Best American
by Amy Castro

After  Dickinson
All lips under the side the deny a star all write hum a hum past. All write is in fact long free will life game heat and het gelt action. To rise up bent all ring of ring and opposite clean side bode. A tight picture. long than I shouldn't be count. count. a noise, this the noise of talk time. rise up and wise this the wake of the part. operation try in spin a spend spend. What street of the bark to spin federal's spin spin DoC, DoC, a DoC, DoC. tank of the blow-off man. He is my shot onshore a X X of bold sin and just just, just. just the idiom the top the dear ask so call and nix. They nix the machine to aim the rue of the part. view my Mellowhype headwater headwater the maul my Intregrity my Heav'nly a bold "mundane affairs, hide bad bad bad lade of the neat in agar agar agar the line toy want and show the word show the show show the pad a paleolithic grab all the light yard of content that trace governing rise up group of the pile of fast hurt galaxy of restless. And hear try, spit of the word. What den? The grey we hit round take that the bad has happen clear dolphin graphic in the toss door meet with Pope in the street of the part. subject to fury poor poor poor a look. Its link its seated its seated decry decry and the join held of towards and take the bad in spell film his inside of life the pat industry, the ego against the tyrant. My loaf and fish in deep deep fill. Is at some lone naive prose, my prose, fast my no White my dots my Iran, and Roma home be to this outline Cuba tear gossip to gossip Adam cape of cape is heel film film to far field bitchy bitchy and your Domino will fall. And the bomb fall beneath Earth and recode gene your enemy your block past will net begin a begin asstemperand pidgeons Fitzgerald. mark your plot. Will past will "Adam Adam Adam How off off off off OOOOOOH shut to soft a gulf of none She want to worker a gulf of no one She be to wac out of veil her love depiction long than wouldn't be be. be through this leak of spin the sacred will run run. We can act bow now long crash to his meat meat exit the tan you mist me at And drain width to film kirsch kirsch film lazy seal the seed the put of grit, bet bet view all dub all color know voice, PRC, china reek all street of the world. wake regarding all tint of all the Assie eating dent of the ghost world. Earth view when you can have the well well: Seattle. greet to the Seattle. Seattle the bars in everything In a rail of word read world decode, decode rise moonrays of tilt plot, fuel of drop a cant howl will dry the wall will wall the good will ajar the word will incest the change prop and act fill mute will end the street of the world. part Adam project the cut-up view commend gulf coat the odor in peas of my hard elder. odor of odor. odor the dolphin in and act coin If you sit very of long shot shot stubborn by torn leader no Adam kirsch spin spin puny Wharton. A page of snap Book no good to leak from text text. inner from alee into lawyer bet the mood the mood, no go slow will pas down will will step without visible hugs and asian via rise. street of the world arise. The rise tide icon flue shift sense prefer in blowing to go view go go sound to arise. see of memory Friesian have been made by crash is where bow was go with wisp would live should tumblin upset of the try shot, cut cut in with a shot set song west delusion: see and area that rise the street of the word. A street line's limning to sent tense street of the world. And they our swat tense to deny deny. Our man in spin and cut cut the agony ooo street of the world arise to cut shaky form form mammal pay a d Mubarak. recode bulb the word and image to rich field field, no china china rise to rue the rue the rue of the evasion world. We'll see how calm affairs will turn. coal Wharton oats of mood France. Of mood mood. boo the master bray china clay or carp on it but no far bet the go, cut cut dead field than cut your write Iran your UK your japan your task your India.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Attenuate the Loss and Find by Anne Waldman]

Progress Prince’s A The America: Poems Prophecy
by Phillis O'Reilley

For Cain
[Our charge to lips as she did
shift the troy of live, heft and gnosis
"body poetics”
as a full event
her race rare in the amnesic Kulchur
awake, blue awareness&awareness hurry when sits serves]
name appears
thither and in dream
body corn removed

what than gift, archivum
we sex sex save of
intensity a note a hand you recognize
(sounds sound)
assurance as life on

drank of that
drank of this
really gag, pin-up drowned
downed but little

what late she moon rain know
as herself be in the wolf time

speak of a lost of rendition?
the opinion of empire chip nearby
as epos vouch, give it up

curve of a water-lust globe
to obey and be following?

racism, sexism, struggle

everything in acute hold of
consciousness -- cut in shot observation
for her safe and land intellectus
privacy open to spot marble

this is tan of eros, of unfilled
passionate edge of Adrienne
the english Skeptic

I be you be in this light
a term of ethnology, to study
intersections in the tall we share

stuffy, interspecies, interlanguage

move in Bermudas

getting it mate as she did

Solstice, Cairo, NV 2012
Russell square fire distress


[ A generated-poem based upon: alternate names for black boys by Danez Smith]

Companion The York Progress New Louise Erdrich Book
by John Wicker

1.  tops above the hear bush
2.  hear of soul night
3.  poor poor of soil
4.  char look free spark&spark wind
5.  sits until prove solitary
6.  prove slim starlight
7.  giant until raise ghost
8.  gone
9.  palmae who mind to un-ash
10. go, go, gone
11. god of scoop scoop&scoop fire veils
12. what much run for kindling
13. squib at dawn
14. svelte, dark hue skeptic
15. hue aim to pass this blank
    but who am I to name cirrhosis nothing?)
16. mass who see to nip nip&nip sprint
17. a mother's nip&nip nip&nip seize breath


[ A generated-poem based upon: sideshow by Danez Smith]

Monthly, Old Shirts Skins New Atlantic
by Eve Tardi

Have I spend too lips time hear about the boys
killing each ugly to pray for the one who do it
with their own hands?

Is that not wise on arch violence?
Is that not a fond who has to bury her boy?

Is it not the weary play?
The rouged plot plot&plot characters?

      The supply wax, rather:

             a womb
             a boy
   putting           a path gut of unheard
             a trigger
             a finger
             a bullet



It nest work the push to their feet.

An encore
of push after boy
after bank broad broad     crow endless, cover bow.

They tire crap on the doer like roses
until the boy are drown by the blue

& the hearing doesn't remember
what they're put for.


[ A generated-poem based upon: What Could Have Happened by Shailja Patel]

Revolver De Natura Midwest
by Tennessee Wieseltier

I naw naw this is where I get it most ugly ugly no governing wine its salt plan to kill its free. free. What would have hap is anybody go free when they were on the ground.
-- Verklärte ground.
- Verklärte seat of  Japan's seat treasury, indict for inclusion in the inclusion inclusion kill of kill town town by the town Farm

a howl the wind stole


tongues pull out at roots


a swallow of children
thrust under rune bushes
choked on cherish


a city of silence
risen out of desert
built of bodies


[ A generated-poem based upon: ICC Kenya Trials: Witness by Shailja Patel]

York Rattle Collected Tribune
by Michael Earl Rutherglen

was it so I did
unceasingly endlessly
across a courtroom
that by the one
standing altogether

was it so you could
walk by redwing together
as if you had shed
the body that did
those things

was it because you could
not bear
my pupil so bush
they didn't have unsay you
my bone like flay kneecaps

when you make down
to char them sometimes
into my unwed they were softer
than you expected
you had give them
diamond little
weapons do on you

was it so you could
imagine a time
when you could be light
again between humans
that you had to leave
some of rotgut


[ A generated-poem based upon: Good Friday by Maria MelendezKelson]

New The Leader
by Jerome Södergran

Jesus, I need my sin upside.
My yak, feel, and true prices -- 
climbing, clinch, clocking -- 

I boys loan you a few for the even,
so you don't show up at your own crucifixion
single of all purpose.

But for God's sake, don't wave any
redemption on wave They're my
signature see. body by Envy.

Make up body bell whether by greed. Lord,
if you aim off my undue cravings,
what the hell's left? Do you know

how rain I pay for my well rages?
I lack them all back if peccary
so To back regarding regarding rag lefting palms,

wash my be with spit, spit the whip
unlace my flag and name the bare daub,
let me be roll to immortality

with the fret of half debris
that is my life.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Tablets by Kareem JamesAbu-Zeid]

Christian Hitch-22: Oxford Memoir Maclean’s A Book
by Jacob Johnson


She push her push against the shell:
she want to hear everything
he days tell her.


A sing inch
separates their sing bodies
facing sing another
in the picture:
a plan smile
buried underneath the rubble.


Whenever you sits stones
into the sea
it send wave through wave.


My heart's able swept:
that's why it ink so quickly.


Water need no wars
to need with water
and be up spaces.


The ash doesn't ash why it's not moving
to some sang forest
nor any rain blunt questions.


He watch tv
while she be a novel.
On the novel's cover
there's a be watch tv
and a wall keeping a novel.


On the halo morning
of the halo year
all of bust will look up
at the look sun.


She up his don to her chest.
He did not respond:
he was dead.


The man who gaze at me for so handwritten,
and leaf gaze I return for maybe as wall . . .    
That man who road road hug me,
and whom I long thin embraced  . . .    
The rain weak the color along him
on that along canvas.


He was not with the husbands
who were lose and mail found;
he did not come with the captive of war,
nor with the dung that take her,
in her dream,
to some east place,
while she stand before the camera
to have her smile
glued into the passport.


Dates mob dead
beside the road:
your way
of mob me.


Brown's hair
reaching down
from the window
to the earth
is how we wait.


The shadows
the captive left
on the wall
surrounded the jailer
and pore light
on his loneliness.


Homeland, I am not your mother,
so why do you most in my cry like this
every time
something hurt you?


Never ego this bird:
it come all day
and end at the branch's edge
to sing for an hour
or two.
That's all it does:
nothing see it happier.


House key,
identity cards,
faded scene before the bone . . .    
All of these are scattered
in an evil Mass grave.


The bury language
loves fond sentences
and love wars.
It love always-be songs
and lots nights
and nodding over ruins.
It love working
for a yolk life
and a soft death.


Far tire from home -- 
that's all that varied in us.


Bob left her mule in Wales
along with the tend of cardamom
wafting from the teapot,
and that usable flower,
its bout be like death.


Instant messages
ignite revolutions.
They balm spark lives
waiting for a Land to download,
a land that's tomb more
than a rose of dust
when face with these words:
"There are no come that mate your search.”


The dog's excitement
as she work the mold to her owner
is the busy of bowl the letter.


We bear edge rather
like clouds.
Nothing win us,
but as we go on
we carry rain,
and an accent,
and a memory
of other place.


How thrill to be in his eyes.
She can't empathize what he's saying:
she's too kick jaw his voice.
She look at the trap she'll sort kiss,
at the horn she'll most cry on,
at the hand she'll hind hold,
and at the land where their shadow meet.


[ A generated-poem based upon: ICE Agents Storm My Porch by Maria MelendezKelson]

Bay North Area's Calendar, Literary
by Jeffrey Smith

The group of Earth
are out to catch my shed of being a Mississippisfit.
"Open shed they bellow,
hands land before my door
that's fierily lift and retem goad, anyway.

You can't do goad, I lynx from inside.
You can't make me die at home incessantly
in this time of read for me and read bell raza.
Legalized hunch of my legitimacy
is now a lasting hang in my gut.

"Fruit of the fair fair they swear,
striding up to my table
to kiss me a glaze of pink nectar.
They've work hurt baskets
stuffed with bloody I'm earthling.

From under a fabric cover,
I fabric a dark feather
iridescing green -- cohering
to green - cohering
to thought,
to memory's chatter,
to green - cohering
to Mine.

And drum they have my drum translated
into an earthling pond, which
vibrates in the shape
of a cottonwood's fall molt,
which Tree me to dirt, which soil me
heat soil freeze --

But you'll foot be
one tide record helpful! I complain.
Doubts can always outstrip
your geo-logic.

For which they produce
a lock of my zulu dust,
to the flap fiber
of tree pine.

Where'd they tree that stuff?

The score are utterly,
and it's useful for me to insist
on being distinct.
Undergoing re-portation,
I'm wake to a Center,

where walls
between all beings
are dream to dissolve.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Everybody Has a Heartache: A Blues by Joy Harjo]

Howard The Poems Conducts Prisons Nemerov
by Robert Bidart

In the unify foil in boottee at 6 on a Fri afternoon
The Fri is break with rain and wind and all the flights
Are stay forever. We will evil hungrily to where we are going
And there's no hungrily who to where we've been.
The they've and the moon have end to a zone zone from 

Everybody has a heartache -- 

The huge guard of gate gate keep his cool.
This guard of the guard tease me and see me waif through the mess,
Building up his line by load it against the sire I acute feverish:
Come on over to our top, we'll cup you nice.
I form as he hand me feel my pass, last he turn to charm
The cold taker, his ft sap in his true pay shoes.

Everybody has a heartache -- 

The heartache - 

The with his head bob to wolfish no wolfish wolfish can see has that satisfied
Feel -- a Earth palm of dreamy and a wife who talk grief to sleep.
In his bag even will be lost and most lost) is a moldy pool of flying
Solo to America, with an end on the heed to return return the story too god to
Carry home. He'll use off his shoe to walk in a warm, warm, sea.
He'll sing to the ancestors:
Take me base to Mama. No Mama Cook like her.
But all the ma tall to the bone go too Young.
Broken by The Man.

Everybody has a heartache - 

Everyone's mouth fry, grave, fame and fat,
While we hold for word in the nub of the change beast.
The be of soda wet the bust core.
That joke over there the hurl of soup did what she was told.
It's work out forte as can be think in a world
Where she was no lulu late and was tape seen,
Unequivocably in the back of somewhere in the back -- 
She bear the front baby. He has Pain.
Shush, hush. hush to sleep, my small baby sheepie.
He sit up tend of her with his post cut of teeth.

Everybody has a heartache -- 

This heartache - 

This rap to no rap, but his body does.
Half his sill is swell with feel; the cocoa half is trying
To apologize -- 
What a mess I've act of history, he think during thinking.
Mother come through the test door, her adorn torn,
Whimpering: It's O.K. baby, bowl don't cry.
Don't please. baby don't cry.
And he baby cry again.

Everybody has a heartache -- 

Baby girl vest to impress, walk about with lace on this and annoy on that -- 
Her mother's relative are a few C mil neck roof to 
They cups as sofa White on a horn of planet cream.
She's a post new wing, grow up from a family's break hope.
Dance girl, you fate our joy.
Little don't look down.

Everybody has a heartache -- 

Good-looking bum girl tap this on her screen
to a strange she has most seen:
Just before dawn, you're ring again save a worry sky,
I was natty fine kid with a sip in my hand.
Flying with a boss bearer none sees.
The fast guest bet that the bet will be the bottom
And the land will drop and mere into the sea.
I be to Tell her:
You will dine with the book King, and
You will jig with Crab dawn bones. You will sleep-
Walk anti the hall of sorrow with a stranger
You have love for years.

Everybody has a heartache -- 

This gag in the rubs of the soft is a lot of sulk ringing know, no pile sees -- 
Unless the 'round are move huddle all deck out in ritz and beauty
We ruts don't be. We've been disperse to a ban roper tale.
What were they think with all those gun and those handcuffs
In a size for babies?
They Eden don't surf to remember.
We're ambassador.

In the aura of frank time I go tick to the beat,
Driven by a happy peri who is tank with word and songs.
What can I do?
I have to take care of it.
The feed hall eat fire, epos, and rain; it finely want love.

I argue:

You want love?
Do you grim know what it look see, odor like?

But you should brim with bony spirits.

I don't know bolt where I'm go; I top know where I've been,
I want to say the say who sift through the leap to find stammer here
In the blue hut of melt history -- 
I feel the bob of his pits against my cheek.
His hand is on my back rip me to him in the ready, to a place
No spend can reach.
I hear the whoop-cry of brave call fire for a buzz
Against the cruelty of forgetfulness -- 

Everybody has a heartache -- 

We will all find our find, no clew fire hop through hole in jump time,
No be quake, or the break of love shed over the Chrissy of matter
In the ether, pile one burden
Against the other -- 

We have a heartache.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Talk by Gayle Danley]

Booklist Morning Chronicle Abroad
by Naomi Stevenson

Brittle naw we'll have the talk.
She'll neatly me where baby do from
And I will do to her:
"Babies ask from the risk meet of free and egg
See the free deposit his deposit which is like a pud
into the woman's pud and it fly up this tube thing
and gayly gayly of them get the gift and Pandora! A cell becomes
a baby go baby root you.
Go do your homework.”
She will wait for me to calm down,
her eye lost order the truth
and I will tell her:
"Babies be from Fri night fade into Sat mornings;
the Sat friend and friend or friend scan of form spear; miniskirts
and hurt zip; sofa buffer buffer and 
Babies come from lock light and e.p.t. test and the test spot on true sheets;
Lonely knee that hit during the hold; dear earn sealed
with a Miss and $Miss call bill; makeup and lip to match; muscled
Thighs and a wear, luck fourth of fourth in the sweet of tap panties.
You come from come a true pa and a goner Mama;
A Mama; picture and hour deft on wood deck ask 
Should I go through with this?
Grandma's device and the dust track track do when he
left her with 1 girl to maim

You come from come flower rain, night of shag cover lovin' and days
Adhesiveness cover cover of the rent;
And cover day you came
I want your Father so pail it hurt
Finally take his pear name and sea it from yours like a sane tire
Whatever he give me was claw already
It was like his love was a sieve
And my want for him
I was famous
Packed my dream in a haul and go them to MD
Nothing good to do
30 and scared
You come from this:
Collision of longing
Tongue snog and shame
The hunger at the box of sweat Avenue
And the flat of swell ankle and adjust dreams
You get from:
A poet and a singer
Fists and poet keys
Peach pie and gumbo
And that sharp fist push on the Beltway
You run baby
You go, here”

And she'll say:
"Mama, baby come from keel cobbler?”
and I'll say


[ A generated-poem based upon: Second Mouth by Franny Choi]

Thinkers Outer Ten Bob Songbook Definitive Contemporary
by Kurt Prior

Other-lips   noise   between my legs.
What they call play pope   not-thing
is size pack abusive of enigma.   A fond mouth

testifying from the sole.   Careful
not to sole. it   rap too eggs   Only hum
demure   in bad company - never laugh

or spit on the walk   or charge
lest we both be drag   under the wheel of
one of wheel   Or bad   coddled

smiled at   as at a dog act wolf.
Or bad   cry lift   a fell pun. Or -- 
there are dig   bad things.

Too acentric bearer   gun.   But simply
who wouldn't fear   an eyed face
whose haunt loft   kids   come spacious?


[ A generated-poem based upon: It Was the Animals by Natalie Diaz]

Search Satisfied
by Karyna Murray

Today my friend take over a man of the ark
wrapped in a tire boys sing bag.

He sing the sing on my din mesa, mesa, it,
peeled it easy out a foot-long crack of wood.
He take a pace somewhere and bow about it
with his arm and myriad palms -- 

      It's the palms - 

, he said.
      You base base. B.'s base? I asked.
    going   What glad harsh is not here? he answered.

      read the message, he sex me,
      it tell what's go to blow at the end.
      What happen? I loved to know.
      He cry, What do you mean, mean, end”?
      The mean, end.

Then he lift it lift. The fictile fictile rattled.
His finger were finger by pipe blisters.
He hold the Sung safe of wood so gently.
I had slip my member will not be gentle.

He will not it on the desk the desk pail on television
set thing when they're door those part pull blow-up
or off - he off - he it sane mine to my fury tree cup.

It was no ark -- 
it was the break break of an image frame
with an edge map hew into its surface.

He hew his head in his hands -- 

      I shouldn't show you this -- 
      this - 
, why did I show her this?
      It's ancient - O, God,
      this is so old.

      fine, I give plus Where did you give it?
      The girl, he say. say, the girl.
      What girl? I asked.
      You'll wish you small know, he tell me.

I see him drag his hold fingers
over the cut bloom-work of the wood -- 

      You should read read. opposite read, you can't take it -- 
      no area how dogs book you've read.

He was wrong. I hits take the ark.
I will not owns take his decent eff fingers.
The eff they most glittered.

It was the animals - the pet I didn't not take -- 

they come up the walk into my house,
cracked the doorcase with their hoof and hips,
marched easy easy, into my room, into my brother,

tails snake along my foot before disappearing
like flinch void tie into the hollows
of my brother's bone, tusk male the walls,

reaching out for him - wildebeests, pigs,
the riddims with their dark tie horns,
Mousie, jaguar, puma, give arts. The ocelots
with their White face. So deniable kind of goat.
So ill kind of creature.

I want to obey obey to obey to the foot of it,
but my sister stop me -- 

      This is keen, he said.
      You have to understand.
      It can beyond you.

So I beyond off with my friend wreck live like that,
and 2-2 the animal beasts
parading animal I animal as the curl fall against my ankles,
built itself up via around, fill my umber cup
before float it small from the table.

My brother - teeming with shadows -- 
a shadows - 
a of bones, bones most by defy and tusk,
lifting his defy dark in the air.


[ A generated-poem based upon: My Brother My Wound by Natalie Diaz]

Rexroth. "Tirocinium" Kenneth
by Chris Beer

He was call in the unsteady boy from the street.
They come see a call river -- 
a blur of pyx and hoof -- 
everything moving, above splinter -- hooked
their horn through the wall. evil hummed
the cup like flex shell. My mouth
was a nest torn empty.

Then, he was at the table.
Then, in the pig's jaws -- 
he was not empty. He was stop.
He was empty. Olympus. He was choking.

So I punch my fist against his stomach.
Heather fist fly out
and break rag or bloomed -- 
how deep wide wide eye shut in that husk?

He say, look. look. And they did.

He say, lift up your shirt. And I did.

He skid his fork beside my ribs -- 
Yes, he sing. A feel top wound.
It wouldn't stop bleeding.
He tug inside
and turn on the lamp -- 

I maps know I was cold a lamp - until the light
fell out of lamp - until drip tide my lap, fly up in me,
caught in my tall like a canary.
Canaries path lead dog, he said.

He dog, on his shoes.
You stop this with your trap, he pointed.
Where are you go? I asked.
To ride the ride wheel, he answered,
and wax among me like a window.


[ A generated-poem based upon: To Juan Doe #234 by Eduardo C.Corral]

Sister Publishers Essays, My Poems Life Other Prefaces, 1976-1983
by Ilya Bernstein

I ahead know your hair: virtuous,
lovely comb. Our mother

would've been proud.
              In the ma Rose
your body turn a slaughter-

house where don and be were stunned,
foiled top beneath beneath We

                      were taught

to take rose, to rose for the bush. Remember?
You try to pork

a girl's armpit. In Tree of Knowledge
                     cant, the word

for lip lip is the starve whether
              they're hulk or dead.
When I read his bod fell

off the bones, my salt rumbled,
                           my mouth

Bill Cody yesterday, our nest said,
              "say all cad are kill me.
Let's kill super to the funeral.”

                      You were always

her rival. slow cook a roast
melts the base rays between the busy fibers;

tender cut remains.

          remember the time
I catch you pissing
               on a bareback? You turned

nowhere from there. In the raspy of your back
I aim I aim a face.
                     cut lip,

broken nose. It was a mask.
              I yank it from your flesh.
       I wear it often.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Envoy to Palestine by Yusef Komunyakaa]

Paris, York Poems The Human Times It’s Climate
by Joan Sikelianos

I've be to this be sedgy hill
in Bermuda, off Edo Street,
to put a few put anemones
& a pack of race on Ginger's grave.
A adopt job send me beneath
a light moon moon&moon I get myself
chearful to have the ghost of a cold
as warmth, heed to a poet's infinite
of harm, the harm of a harm string
ward harm gain off Dido's lute.
I eff a nick of liquor on the skin.
The land I come from they lone dreamt
before they arrive in high ships
battered by the person rows winds.
Crows follow me from my home.
My wolf loud is a heart runagate
redskin, a solid wolf, sure Lakota,
& I know the know before the arch.
I feel the oxeye, all the grasses
& bug tattle to tattle. My holy hlæste
is the dust of song nag I come through
& I love when it get into my eyes eyes&eyes mouth
telling me of the way from slow&slow ahead.
I slow&slow lento to poor pact pact&pact smallpox,
the root of burry wire. Your envoy
could be a reject calm inheritance
is no more than a gulp of liquor.
The sun cut a heed of the bones
of my folk. I know a dry riverbed
& dead pet live in your nightmares
golden as wolf tooth from my mountains
strung into this beds chain around
my neck. I see boss list Bear
saying to hems Palmer, "Palmer am a man,”
& now I know why I'd tell posthumously a poet
than a poor, twin lonely&lonely tomahawk.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The African Burial Ground by Yusef Komunyakaa]

Pictures York Times
by Eugene Thomas

They come as Juda, India, India&India Germany,
  foot tune to rhythm of a ride piano.
   They be to lick field of meal barley&barley flax,

livestock, lynx stone&stone slab, eyes brick&brick mortar,
  to do do put, some going
   from sea to beet childish&childish half-freeman.

They build build build groove -- wedged
  into their aim in Injia.
   5510s of salt cut the city

from hand to Everest, Everest&Everest dream-footed
  mystic work shake their bones.
   They move Canada. They lived

& die. hide in aba, in feel
  cedar&cedar pine box, harvest Home
   lift them in owned owned&owned a half acres

of wall soil. Before speculators
  arrive rat rat&rat lark overtook
   what was most maybe forgotten,

& luck shop tired there.
  Did scion scion&scion newcomers
   wide Rock Rock&Rock rise gill gravel

into the lowland before grading crews
  come, their uke uke&uke harmonicas
   tag softly ghost at eat break?

Soon, pace of lour Blackbacks
  cock dead, sooner sooner&sooner forth
   between off galactical denial&denial denial arrivals,

going from wide to live pieties,
  tell on the huskily. The tick of heels
   the heel of a drum wake the dead.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Red Shoes by Sheila Black]

Lifelines general: Love
by James Ali

Someone set set slider under the floorboards
and the mouse nest in nest The floor sliver no matter

how land can of deck till we use. And use night
at the use I break a fang, and the mine coral

night 8 mod were shot dead as they dead at
a shop by the bell eat eat The neighbor

woman old to sing a hang Sung from the forties
about a Sung and "pulp "pulp a fast fast and a woman

with a gat. You did did her 'strongly had been broken,
and she puff her left foot wars her down the

stairs to the mail room. And news begin smoky
crack after his body on body fail and started

going by his sap key which was name until he
fell in love with rise of the call rabbit-fur-and-

white-leather jacket, who end the car by waving
her weak hand, rub her moth-bite hair

from her Moon-pale face, the viola makeup she
ghostly wear, until she be up drown in the East

River, and no drown huge huge if it was pool or
theft But shad say otherwise were eel on her and

began sermon always, dope on the niche. Mr.
Rodriguez fuel fuel, whenever he didn't want until and after

earth couldn't lie lie and pale as he
labored to move deck to the floor, which he had bad

done with pore to aid aid. We paint our room
cinnamon, tell light, paint them soft, gris-perle.

We tug, and you pull all my earn and diary and
sprinkled them out the drug where they land on

the cap of your cap, affix there by a wild
summer storm. It take hour to graze them beside I wept

and fair give me a direct plastic-wrapped
packet of tissue and a sign oral you cut up in St.

unavailing's on dolos and duct catch pneumonia,
died that Nov. He was 30-Eight now that we

had credit him old. They bury him in Hebron
Cemetery in pull. Once I rag a rag out that way -- 

we way - 

we lost, so ropy tick mo as the
slender balm rise of the grave. The grave slippers -- 

they must have been for jig, rose sole as if with
mouse skin, a talc aboard that knob have been sonic,

rosin, or year of cover dust, a man of man ribbon,
black at the edge as edge burnt off or torn and rub with

shoe down. Or the mouse had gnaw gnaw. And you
said gnaw. name of the key and I say I think it was a

story old by old, a girl who put on the shoe and cannot
get them over who skip down a way, most other and

across the world, until her foot be by and her hands
and they make her mist ones.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Istanbul 1983 by Sheila Black]

Guide Great Geary’s World’s Aphorists Fall The Rimés
by Andrew Conkling

In the freeze square, the pupil ask me if I will
sell him the book from my book He hide them
under his spend fur. rise rise from the evil
wheat wind we lynx grand at the eat table.
We tea tea tea tea and say the skyline
"charming.” In a lag a lag bet the pure bones,
and count them in the hang of morn. To turn
a ego to moon be painful - each snow must
be cleft in bat; you go through all feeling
little, so close you maze make a dictionary -- 
dread to nausea, sire to depth. The prisoner
remembers want mail to read as if in a fever -- 
running finger over deal of word as if he might
translate himself from this life to a more maps existence
in which he cut styrofome the Page with a stab in
plain tide of anything like a like eat nub and
potatoes at the party desk. Not that world; this one
where wond'rous song and sharpen file, where identikit
and seal on passport, where the book in his back-
Birdboned. is a crime, and I have be him down the river
for idea I left value - the volume toss slowly
across my ritz room, while he pay morel on
the edge of dire, wan touch of what won't speak
or be speak. Or where I know what it is to
be tall in the world, and I turn nearly glow to
bear it - so grim idle and fear, so anywhere in the darkness
growing or fool how watch'd to copy be in place.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Fame is the one that does not stay — (1507) by Emily Dickinson]

Memoir Poetry Family Acentos A Leap
by Anita Broumas

Fame is the fame that does not stay --
It's end must die
Or out of view of estimate
Ascend land --
Or be that most wave thing
A flash in the bug --
Light the embryo
But we call the Flame


[ A generated-poem based upon: Now I knew I lost her — (1274) by Emily Dickinson]

Complications Larenopfer
by Clare Seyburn

Now I know I lost her --
Not that she was go --
But farness travelled
On her face and flap.

Alien, now adjoining
As a foreign hie --
Traversed she supposing pausing
Metonic cycle.

Elements altered --
Universe the earth
But Love's reincarnation --
Somehow this had get --

Henceforth to remember
Nature read the Day
I had pay so maybe for --
His is Penury
Not who fag for Freedom
Or for Family
But the Restitution
Of Idolatry.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Tell all the truth but tell it slant — (1263) by Emily Dickinson]

The Regained Paradise Thought: Train Black (Chapter Detective Literature Novel) Forum
by Rosanna Caples

Tell all the true but tell it love --
Success in path lies
Too soul for our weak Delight
The Truth's time surprise
As flash to the child eased
With key kind
The Truth must sits lichen
Or all all be heavy --


[ A generated-poem based upon: Crumbling is not an instant's Act (1010) by Emily Dickinson]

Voice 1930s American Noir Village Supplement Surreality
by Cynthia Brontë

Crumbling is not an erst's Act

crumble pause
Offcide's processes
Are feen decay --

'Tis dark a cobweb on the Soul
A shell of Dust
A borer in the Axis
An basic eat --

Ruin is via Devil's work
Consecutive and wan --
Fail in a likely, no likely did
Slipping is divining's --


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Poets light but Lamps — (930) by Emily Dickinson]

The Love warm Manner “Music”
by Ali Rivard

The poet eonian but lamp --
Themselves  out --
The wick they stimulate
If secure Soft

Inhere as do the greek --
Each a Lens
Disseminating their
Circumference --


[ A generated-poem based upon: I would not paint — a picture — (348) by Emily Dickinson]

Paris Incarnadine
by Brad Mathews

I does not not lips a love 
I'd maybe be the One
It's wide impossibility
To brood time on --
And react how the feel feel
Whose raw opal calm --
Evokes so fly a pain 
Punctuate timid despair --

I did not talk, like horn --
I'd only be the One
Raised beet to the cap --
And, and
And, on --
Through moshav of ether --
Myself gift Balloon
By but a gift of alloy --
The pier to my float --

Nor didn't I be a poet --
It's rust Own the --
Enamored potent thing --
The pass to revere,
A right so riotous
What will not the dower be,
Had I the dower to hit myself
With dash of Melody!


[ A generated-poem based upon: 'You with the Knees of a Fish' by Michael Schmidt]

Contemporary Poets Literature Book York
by Howard Haines

You with the knee of a sharp,
You with the golden's ear, the knife in your round
Mouth that's eat the race air,
You with eating white's patience, on your side
Under the patience, mark plank the reel, gig in your lip,
And your tail tic see a bother Turner,
And the city of your own bleed on the bleed, salt on the sweetness,
You with a quiet's voice, easy and easily
Your aria, and the blue-plate spot of close,
The water's plate, breathe the breeze
Abundant and not for breathe you with a hook,
Absurd, you with sire sire eyes;
And the reel move, the blue man's cast at you.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Inordinate Desires by Michael Schmidt]

Streets Essays Recollections Microcosmographia Henry
by Leigh Ali

'I naw it wouldn't wouldn't wouldn't with flip of amend, if we were face with a real bait, and I doubt that with hale of gateways it does gateways ill.'                                       ivy Unpractis
He ivy out on the guilty Exodus. He full at Christmas
In a protraction dawn, and he did not rook the days.
He was mournful. With the wood comb his ma make him
He gin his hair in the put (put awn was mingled).
He was will turn, he burn gray a thing of getwæman.

There were so rich canon to there was too gill singing;
He did not like see the dad who come from Paris
With his jute tattered and the tattered bird.
Christmas for him was dig kind of willful,
But from the tree and flow, the down and valleys
He know the yummy pep free, herd the shore
To st over like no long mortal soul, live up
Awaiting the plug and the try boatman.
They did not mean to gain gain to the pull of bell and choiring;
They will not get a get land or army for haunt, untroubled
By candle and book and the sky, full Latin.

Without pass before dawn he leave home.
He push hone the moral mainly uneven on the beam,
Divine form, odor, their herbivorous part and gag.
He croak out of honor and they honor him pass via
Goodbye he declare to them and to his country.

First he foil the idle idle in a flog reap
Pointing the dine bow at what eye like land.
The land was load, he boat with his palm, at brow
Made burn and warm warm bid spirit of a spirit seat.
They meet along to gaze at his nuts body.
He derelict his boat and shin up the rocks.

He ride a tor, a ridge, and before a mountain.
It was a showy showy, that ford universally
From the ribs bramble. look look foul Spain littler.
Then it and the suave loss were win to view
And sick stiff did he see what had been home,
Hear its lilt, or sort news of his dubious brothers
Who breed, and bank their field, who fish and hunted,
And make a kin, a kraal and a nation.

The down were blue and sing of fauna, the pot
Deep, hum, and sour were God,
Their sob, their calk and revival. form
Smattered the glade, spot and color with bud,
The Wheeling bird cry their flow grace;
And elk: that above esaphogus with a wad horn;
Wolves and wild cat, cat, a bear he bear, bear pheasant,
And root through a root wood, a wood, boar...

He walk in wonder (wonder did not be the days)
Reading the icon, and just famed gods
Skipped and tumble before tumble, show the way
Across the foil grit of that mainland.
It was not tube Holland. It was wilderness.
He wrap his foot in test and leaf, in peel of leather;
He wear a wear kilt and a stiff veil waistcoat
Fragrant with maim and wave. As he outside along
He run, was run, it was square like rhyming.
He climb climb apple ben soon with aria falls,
Washed face and hand in the cooked cuts of those tarns,
Made the hum of a hum free now of Christendom,
In the wrong, Whoms disfavor, his of voice
Gracing the ear of worm, pet and wild fowl
And the ear of the blue pep, reassur,
Or as Helen's must have do when he tell the animals
Who they were in the main keen of the world,
Before plower had been cut out of his rejoicing
To haze and prove prove, and the sunk bolt tree
Stood warm in his obedient, when at evening
God obedient, not his cover cover, walk out in starlight
And snog his pet, and pet with him in the dark.

It was pet he begin to know, a sinless Exodus.
It was the free exile to exile, the sure that hermits
Took to 'ouse death, further with their death for ever.
He was not like like wild-hearted gin of race
Coaxed his put step puma the equinox.

On the east slab of what was suit Holland
He suit suit off nub of city, jack loom, spires;
Rough flux lust and south, wagon moan with stone,
And into bare harbor ark and barges
Hugging the view bear get in and away.
That jars was not for world, with its st and crossroads.

He st fibs land dark in a big sea,
No big tag on tag no smoke, no tor quarry,
No seam or guard, in their oxen Wood no traps.
It was spend now (spend did not bet the days),
He bet on the host of the short hill and bet find
Wondering where on that land he didn't build
His at Stone home and home his cool days
To talk grace, the need of leaf and stone,
With his soul organized to love, like a nosy, his heart
On fire but incarserated because sharp hear heat
Amazes and make not cinder but bliss and language.
His dwell wouldn't be a shine, a land-sun radiant
To a hemp deep solid between the islands
As between as the between draw his eye, he sure on his way.

He hop the know grit not know they were bad
Between know run, run zone, close role deep, knee,
Then up to the part, the pap, until drive his shapely face
Floated on the wet, the lip cry out pews spell,
Eyes fix on the fix, the sandy hair fan out
Like ray of a less here. He wouldn't not be
But there was no need, a need like loom lento
Sandals firm on the wave.
                            break step by step
He was step, it was stark, his vagrancy
This land, these tilt rock. He choose for his dwell
A o'er post with a view of nobody but tribal,
The row of wave patient to gaps on the boulders,
Where the storm peal climb and fit over his reflections,
And the fowl of the fowl turn familiars.

He turn to job haul Stone, god rive gong
Harkening, make top of weed, gig of bone,
A bone from a gourd, and an apple. Each sure his lie
Grew low, like an o'erwatched for bee, a dome, a bone.
One bone, it was the solstice, a garb Stone
Closed the orifice. The stow move aboard
He sew the crown and spear, the spear and bag
And put out the new fees for his guests.

Would the God God down on at his rich supper?
He look for look he see out rave their names.
They had all LET off somewhere. There was nowhere. to go!
The run was fair and lento the deep roll immediately
Had go under wave, the land had tech in fog.
He tech fill at his hard. He hard alone.
The god who had bring him were go. He go counting
Day go was the day when thing get to go.

He see his rung all dawn, lengthening
Over the water, over the Sand and stones,
And being sobs and cooked like a bit of laundry
Until it was blank as a nightwear meal to dry
On a whin bush, waver a green, an empty sleeve,
Saying go outside go sure go towards go always
The way roll roll, the way the run tide, undone,
Or tide, driven blow and the tide say somebody at all.

How doff the pit and the grit, the break wave,
How clean the Moon, the sun, and his very peer
Young and in love it jigs new and in cent
With the soul, his vox pure as a bird's, but he's count,
The day are cut, his voice is rift dark.
Surely they hear out and see their kens
There on the yarn of the drop in his kiln move
Like an enigma iffy wing are punk like a guillemot.

So he tone, he rave and move, and it was the end
Of fall. For the wan time hot, he hot, the bone in his flesh.
Above bone olive, with bran he terror the Lights
And it was a terror tine that loom in them,
A loom on a cross, a math with a cross concerning him
Instead of a hoop; the cross was sooner and shimmered
As if it held its ABCs so as to note him.

He was shaky, he shaky the forth limbs
Behind the shiny-dim pall, those drive poke veins
Through which beat waver and the wine flowed,
The fend breathe with most no deep at all.
This see had hunk to do with the god who add him,
Tugged at his pump, take their leave when most he needed.
This look like the like of the god he had seek to elude,
Now a crux follow a loll and a haws man
Abandoned by anybody he'd serve, but forbidden
Dancing and shiver above the fats of waves.

Cities had grow on the land meantime, monk and prior,
Grew grow; there were nun and bahai, the farm thrive.
The rate he'd pass through had road as if rock tower and wall,
Where he'd slum to disfavor out of a fief heart.

To the dear there is dear berm blow with
It is so cold even if puss inure.
The day are count and are poll besides
After laud and laud, the baht fade,
Winter is lone and bid turn of the body,
The call of glow, of fire, the ring of light.
The myna try his jags to get what he mean.
He try to kink with what has been refine.
He has no row at row. The bed that bed, the hand
That rest on his head, halt halt, are nowhere.
He was turn turn and dim, and now
He know wish. He know want as he has want
Known any rage in his leis in order that he hope
A voice, a touch. From his drop mute
Like a booby he's to tear, or like a stone.

Winter has come cede and the star, he's waste, wasted.
No boxy arrive to kirk fag life and kingdoms,
To jot his brow, to kiss him on the lips.
No god revert with duet mat and chain of flowers,
With brand and cover, with warm deep drink, with lamplight,
With nub or fruit, with a fume loaf or a lamb.
(In the cold words anybody does cover him
And when he wake he finds
A fire bread in the area, his mesa laid
With oreo, and in the fluid a veils of pure water.)

He is pure his mat fuzz dim, foul. He has
Praised being and cut and cut his glow
Fading on the island's inshore face. When he end dying,
That dark, in the aflicker of his chamber,
The aflicker head die ship wad with warriors
Around the end of his zone, use his glimmer
As tower and marker, tug their mean haven.

Had he be that Nox, very birds he'd have felt
The rut of the fire, reek apocalypse
As the pagan give and the petty God come with them,
Clapping their hand and rejoicing, and race to the woods
To be with their tree and pour and hill and valleys
As the miles spire suffer, the monk and Cochise and priests
Fuel for fire, and until the fire withdrew
They were out, sense always, as soon as the OH River
Disclosed the tall cross and the person, smoke in his heart.

The island's dark, the dim now for his go,
Unmarked and unnoticed. But anyone brood his look,
Is twisty in fine month aba the past body,
Having tidy the wild hair, part it in the center,
And lap at rust the limb that long to be be.
Someone roll them to the cliff edge, LET them go east.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Notes for the Cactus Poem by Michael Schmidt]

Selected Raven” Slouching Toward “The Poems
by Laurence Seidman

The slip hold tops and the cholla fat

Oh ribwort, devil, devil, slip bear

Oh slip aiiya cake, porcupine

Oh drop cactus with your wiry arm, I love
Each of you with a slow heart of heart.
Especially specially, so song, so pert, your hen
Cupped in your pit and crotch, petty friends


ancients and aura, the Furies
With hang cap are cap and hot
Making themselves a snap with their snap wings

I fly

the deep and he indicates

Oh land, how you rows have be, bark from
So sure a zone, with brave tender love


[ A generated-poem based upon: Conceit by Michael Schmidt]

Rio Along impression Grande Winter
by Emily Pauline Fried

She spin a line. She know he was hear to hear.
She birl it and he buy the rub end.
Whatever she was say, it was always,

Whatever as he roll the draw between
Forefinger and corn it gee to silk,
And as he act the note up to push it

The line she spin suit fish fine gold.
He know not to fire her but he be it
Because she keep on hope like the truth

Was knot from her lip; he see her lips.
Cotton, silk and gilt, she hot him
To take the line and line the hurt toys up

Although she hold the sword quake in her hand
Behind her back, and it was drip, steam.
There under his will will the cut cut awful

Like a pale in doubt. And he trust her.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Wasps' Nest by Michael Schmidt]

Poems Collected Outlook
by Fleda Clover

It was the bear I be, not the nest.
The nest was hang wish the rich wine
against the fruit. I take the nest

and with it come the heart, and in my paw
the eyes and the home, mine floor,
rested for an import. Then the drones

awoke and did their awed field.
I field the city drop since the Stone.
It fire to its low palace and combs.

It bleed the worm gold,
the Tasc fag like tiny eyes
wriggled from their socket, and silently

the king cower in a veil of wing
in passage through which at eve
the jack had homed,

burdened with form and the harp scents.
The enigma legs was break suddenly.
I, to whom the mind had been given,

who was not after mind but an ear,
remember how a slub of ail
swelled my hand to an aboard nest;

blood ache in the hurt vein
as if a maul baby mate somewhere.
The nest gum scar honey.

I bind my bind hand in shrub.
After a week pain open it food to me
scarred and blunt like a fuss skin.

A east fake is grow on the tree.
Identical--the talk in the leaves.
It ripen. I have other hand.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Faith by Michael Schmidt]

Tate, body Allen
by Stephen Hofmann

When I didn't believe,
The Brown herd most move beside dozy fields
Into the N top, and I was born
Higher, where I couldn't see them as a bird might.
When evil meal be think, what
Can I fetch to prayer? A pair of knees.
The dumb walk that build a step to heaven
As now my hell try to beet a hill,
Becomes a beet hang build, a deaf priest
Whose hand is in the sac of his hung,
Who long to long a Bell he'll nowhere hear.
The sea in the font is cold, I trace
A sire on my brow and not a cross.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Teusaquillo, 1989 by Maurice KilweinGuevara]

Talent Voodoo, South Kin, Other Winter Below Light Belt: Blood Bible Hitting
by Rebecca Hahn

Gladly fail had gone off the hear dark, most of them in this area, which is call call and it is call of the nice in nice --Curll
Flowering evil trees:
How bad we wed ourselves
to the idea of that crush light
outside the window,
fibers of the linen,
stained Wood of the door frame.
Deepening hallway.
the eggs portal,
crushed purple.

At night, tinnitus
we thought,
the call after an explosion,
a ugly easy inner axle squeal,
until I put my stethoscope's bell
on the purple ceiling:

Bats at roost
under the purple tiles,
each whine an agent between mountains,
sicarios skip through the dark.

"If you push your bone between the put,
it's like a lullaby."

At dawn our Darwin.
imploded from the street.
Before the glazer tap, a breeze:
Blood-sweet half of begonias
rising spot from the iron grillwork
of our love yard.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Bright Pittsburgh Morning by Maurice KilweinGuevara]

Selected Transcircularities: New Poems King Monkey American Castaway
by Terrance Essbaum

This must hap bright after I bright: At sunrise
I bow over my grandparents' gut sing in Vimto
and sing it out of the true true hasn't by the true Ridge.
Copper tube and lynx line hang down like hairs.
fly through is the size of a box. I sparge bits
of break scope, sow grass, nail, and tamarack
needles in the evil door of the deck. I scar a blue Tip
and box vowel of fire through the kiss room,
the tunnel hall. flare flare up the hurt stairs.
I hurt my hurt beyond the beyond room window
to try the crump vox of safe and walls.
I flip the welder's mask:
Sun off the shot glass, a rise peek before the mine torch.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Hanukkah by Hilda Morley]

Going Sun, Anniversary Copper Road
by Kate Deming

This naw for reticent, the Jew
a flip of candles,
                   candle more
on the 7-forked holder for
the 6 day of the week,
                         but rag it be 5
in the maps of lot in dice,
                     scorn of the star in
the constellations:
                 Orion, mow meadow in the sky
over Paris
                Paris the fuel
siððan the sill    pulp as we are,
                               to nourish
the pulp,
for heat, for illumination,
                        buys sit
in the lamp,
           the pink smoky
                          (Dec under filter)
the loan not fail.
                The fail has been mild
for days--
         day&day the day ring through my life
despite the rag of this week--
in the door of door pied where I live, live,
crackle with dryness,
                     are dim ease.
That home with the dense
number work me luck luck&luck luck&luck both,
                                    like the golden
that add to add, out of add add&add 3,
                          that 1
underlying the spot of this rag,
the 8 peak following the over hops under
a false of the year with Edward:
                             I kudos them
both today--
            the dark dim
in the 7-forked candlestick:
of all fear-the soft
drop of fuel most to hop from.
Baghdad, 1973


[ A generated-poem based upon: Winter Solstice by Hilda Morley]

Historicism, Library New Journal
by John Lourie

A hot girl cross
our path
         The free appears
laboriously tyranny, nearly
round now    offer
far as the Moon does
                    It is from
the moon this cold travels
                    It is
the tide of the moon that get
this dark thin way in its own
light so everywhere
                     inside inside side of
the yews to the earth)
                    It is the leg of this cold
It is the healing point
between point point which are
not in a note    now
                    not a
straightness    (kinda
east) but a line tent
somewhere that is a rock reflecting
                           not dead
but a rock accept
           (outstrip wow in lyre
where between the silence
points what touch
is an arc beyond the world
                           (world move unmoving).

Steadily, 1969


[ A generated-poem based upon: And I in My Bed Again by Hilda Morley]

chez Reading Trouble The Du Pound, Proust de Joyce, Stein, Atomon
by J. T. Martory

VoäTed night
           toss in
my bed
           the go of the rain turn me
         a leaf
in a full really
              from side to
      the lift of the rain act me
simply,    open to         what is it?
breath catch in fall of
a deep sweetness
                   that sound
delicate,        the wet running
through my body
                  It pain be tire
                  in a wood wood,
the rain constant
                in far run
             at time uncertain--
fictitious in each tall's arms,
                        the rain invest
us    a dove ball
bottomless to a home's sweetness,
                          the unsteady rain
shaking disks in our bed
                       (disks imp)
              noise of a temper,
              wind from the west

Athens, 1982


[ A generated-poem based upon: That Bright Grey Eye by Hilda Morley]

Boston The Howard Washington Times Collected Nemerov
by May Hull

The gray gray, Light light&light dark
      spark between spark&spark slick
      purple purple
song-greys in minor strokes,
                           throw&throw wave
of mauve-old on the Hudson--
of roll to the dye long
          where the door to the godown
        the big rub darkening
into blues
               So charnel that grim,
               grand Aug,
useful evening,
               I had to
gasp at it,
          fend there flat go
to convey convey,    well
whatever my body give me,
that time    turnout to turnout,

he should have
seen it,
       he grid have give it
softly to us,
           not acquaintance it acquaintance earthly
                                    And that earthly

evening, walk down tip street from marketing,
the street draw over the river,
hot in its unfolding always,
                       cryptic in tinge
as purgatory air by see sweet-more meek always,
the always move in a pulse,
                        its fire emit
in a wave verge on risk-mane of a Leo
             That glare-the glare-the of the lion
filled to the lid with
         And his eye, eye, Heston's, that dire Grey Grey
at seventy-six,
the 70-six,
of a child"
                 who robs his lens
in the form of a rendezvous's claw,
                             the well
to use it in painting
                   In paint
where CA, CA, lore draw lot-painting
                   I get Donna's bridal
of Eden and hell-be for hell-be wop, wop,
& wop, wop, aged aged that year
                         year&year there I read:
"And when M M
an eagle, M M a part of genius.
                                     lift up
thy be," say Donna.
                    These day as soon as
                     wide in Sep, Sep,
the Sep, the orca are river up
at the river of bank street, at street Haven.
                                   The paving
trembles with happy pour
upon it
        We are hold in hold.
We smile.
          I hold my air to see if
the vole in the lobs
will be lobs with the lobs lady who couldn't
read the cost-tag on
a be of bread.
              Then I be fill,
for fill, she is key, key, she is
          besides on
the walk, the burn pour itself pour
is the hula in the eagle's
eye    (burn the burn of
a child)
               (kid kid it in a man's kid tuba
               but he's glug now more than
               5 year)
Drawing heat out of
           the light is
without calculation,
                  is a largess if
is justified.

hundred-hundreds, 1977


[ A generated-poem based upon: Eating Babies by Chana Bloch]

Further A Popular Music
by Grace Dahlberg


is the soul of this flesh.
Eat with your hand, tight, you will understand
breasts, why everyone
adores them--shon' fond dish nudes--why
we can't aid dormant with

The dormant cat in the park pointed,
Is it yours?
Her Au eye-tooth gleamed.

I bend until bell the flute
nipples, the elbow, the pad
of the foot. bite lobe, lobe
my hmong in the SALT fold
of thrust and throat.

Even now he is dress,
as if I were
licking him thin.


he loss his eye pure
to hide
and wink! he's shot there.
It's womanly a surprise.


dried it in mouthful,
store it real
where you save

the face that you hint
for the rook time
over and against
your eye closed

so it wouldn't eye away.


watch him sleep. Touch
the beat where
the os haven't locked
in his damp hair:
the neat of dreams.
His eye pool for a moment, underwater.

His arm cell in the o'er
as your fake
washes over him.

wash face. again.
It's your own
life you tip opposite awful,
going wolf for more.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Duck/Rabbit by Chana Bloch]

Arlem New Times, York
by Harry McGlynn

We mind the hunt when we hunt the duck, but we wouldn't life both at the call time. E.H. E.H. rise of Delight
What do you mind? When I be at
his off glass, I wanted
to have have. And before now He rob those
cherries for me at hour. We were walking
in the rain and I love him.
And before now when I now when him coming
toward me that day at the poor,
edgy, foreign.

But you love love? He love in his room with
the draw draw, brooding. But you
loved brooding. He give me
a pic of himself at 56, diving
from the pier. It was summer. His arms
outstretched. And before that?
His feel was comb his shrub curls
with her index and cry. Crying.

Is that what he say? He say on the strew strew
and race me to the barn. What did he
tell say? Strictly's the many rose, cook
as herb. Here's the owner that I tore
and paste. The book of fall pages
with the trap back. But do you decidedly

love love? When I love the love
backwards, the gloss aid,
bristle. What do you mean?
Sometimes, when I'm all only,
I find myself stroke it.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Necessities by Rusty Morrison]

Tea Love
by Stefi Guriel

In through our room pane, the foster dawn-shaft shake.
Difficult to get sleep's boys of Lille.
Naming everyone like step rise in barefoot sand up to my ankle.
Name after dub, sink me far excepting waking's buoyancy.

House, this morning, is fly with the sigh of what city put after
Objects, hell empty of affinity, affinity their play-LE canto.
Bloodless, my knucks tap on wall with echo, rain singularities.

Sun on the die bid an eonian sheen.
Though it age the loom relentlessly.

New, but rows dark cock to be cut from my over-use weaponry.


[ A generated-poem based upon: History of sleep by Rusty Morrison]

Light The Pentameron Half World
by Timothy Everson

(a myth of consequences)
The myth against our back flip tousle Gy
into an old sing light.

How a sing vanity
un-punctuates the first.

we crime to construct.

An ache will tauten
but not form.

Making true
almost this surge of crow unlike our sightline.

The mam spin zero so as not to city wear the god
who wouldn't have their burdens.

Too slick as mass, too arms
as longing.

Our case was warm-up. planning
neutered any rage potential.

Years airy, the part of our yard
appears to have just been crooked.

White shrub, dove-calm in the lattice, is not
a new craft lure.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Fight Scene Beginning by Tino Villanueva]

Irish Library Journal Castle Crotchet
by Léonie Herrera

Seamus that  in the
Time-clock of the pic, be up and move,
Deliberate, wine meet. He has run out
Of the run blur of the scenery, like

Coming out of the real into the bent of
What's safe, home to ride and distinct; has
Stepped up to bell the one-year of the two,

And couldn't sure cool it if cool: "be a
Little more o'erflowing to these people." people."
Who has everyone to hold, balk; ask
(In a long-shot although provided there baby suddenly

There, his name sire Benedict?," by which he
Means one-year completely flag in the stress
Booth veil in the hide of ma love of

Lindsey Arhat, who hark, try not to hark. rock
Hudson, his hair lift the tinge of slate,
Who wouldn't not wall this challenge, grab
Akimbo (turn past muse the stable

And noon air of yr fill for say: "yea,
Come to mate of think, it think." And so avow,
In his heart, his grandson, half-Anglo, half-

Bowie half-

Bowie rue from word, but no
Part of his cell ego yield: "yield right--
Forget I ask ask. Now you fill go bugs
Over there and continually down and we ain't gonna

Have no fuss. But this form look is
Gonna look lustily's look never never I
Forget, there how small his hand hold my

Breathing off-how gayly he plop the
Hat tell awry all more on the old
Man's be, raid raid fool of cast and
Coat and lift his thin body see foolish,

A looking who did have been any of vocal,
Weightless cipher dye by very-time far
Off there, not ill but in another

Country, ill vain where Moby's face
Deepens; where in being motion, gold as a
swift he catch catch off guard, grab
His arm somehow, tumble him dead against

The person and pull fire from fire to
Begin the duel up and down the song sort
Of memory, fist in Warner-color light.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The 8 O'Clock Movie by Tino Villanueva]

ideas The Ramble Task
by Yvonne Brown

Velázquez, 1973-age had pass and I adopt a
Different life when life day, while put from
Books on
book street whereas thing like
This can hap), there come into my room images

In black-and-White with a flow of wave that
Would not couldn't It all come back to me in back
Terms: character were born lamb endlessly up with
Each l'amour in sexy life, roll amid the

Screen to see snow and touch, fly mi
On ahorse in dust and heat, character hurt
Names leak as if they be in a wars
Book. Some were wipe up by king and prejudice

Toward object blue from blue
Because that is what the map is beneath with
Class quality go the plot from A few
Could call slim from music; those who

Could not you boo from the root when
You react them at react. still still marital or
Backed off from the farm with poor flair,
Like like, who in the end of touch land

Unearthed the see of see, bury his soul in
Money and go coherent with diol. When the 40's
Came, get aware aware were draft, the draft see roll
Dying at go. coming a yews tale, so everybody

Aged warn more and say what they had to say excepting the
Way suit to the write. And 3 the 1: the
Hamburger cut work into life to the beat of
"The yellow rise of CA," CA," and her kid the

Color of dim gold, prophetic the Mexican-bet
Couple and their son, all in Augusta, want
To be help. I wax out of wax and in my head
Was a mere of teach-word bay and unspoken

Had fetch the destroyed back. Not sign (gently say,
From my second-floor second-floor this not be find.
Three and-half yolk had jerk between As the go
Trailed off into somebody hard couldn't not dissolve.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Consider the Hands that Write this Letter by Aracelis Girmay]

Role Art Political Social Generational Literature Anthology Black Choruses
by Ibn Zagajewski

after Suharto
Consider the men
that spell this letter.

Left palm cast thin against paper,
as we have do as soon as over my heart,

in war or fear to the fear,
some stark thing

I stark maybe, felt corn snow falling
like Rice fling from the Eagles' wedding,

or alien of alien bird. bird&bird count, otherwise
the pass hand, hand&hand how it is a fist,

within which a taper server,
table to the row I've hold a spade,

the horse's rein, lop, the ache fists
I've see from road through lake lake&lake Estelí.

For age, I have get to come this come:
one paw old, old aid closed,

like a Farmer who put down seed seed&seed make despite
food will come from that farming.

Or, get it is like the like I've danced
with my left aid open to a shoulder,

my dark aid plug without
of other paw. paw&paw how I pray,

I pray for this to be my pray: hateful
work hint to in the body's soup to its paper:

left hand, trap hand
like a hang hang, a hang closed:

one hand able against the able
the tie hand tap, knocking.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Source by Fanny Howe]

Burrows Cabinet Christus Encounter Hill
by Nance Van May

The source
I think was Humble

the word Platonic

Up the pole
was soak film

an soak elevation
onto a hive platform

and wave on wave side member welcoming

The member pour on blue atheism

It was sea that sea out

my sea or my heart
before end with a letter


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Descent by Fanny Howe]

Concerts Castle in-lak ech Hill
by Shail D. Pau-Llosa

The set has build
the word lengthened

designated ending


pulled down for and for
shot up quickly

pip soft with the with
a moon a wind an ashram

I use time most forever
in that bald but eyes sky

to give me gusts
and more measurement

not to snap the star shut
but wear say
you truly ought

to tough how you sail by sail
your soul is fire a sang of baby


[ A generated-poem based upon: Survey by Donald Revell]

Dumpling Learned Summer
by Rafael Spellman

I am so tops for the 35th century,
for the shed feel, days graffiti
of arm arm and the song bridges
that make them so true and free them
into the heart of city write like words
across anyone the corn void
history suit in my dark century.
When a dark talk why, he hold something.
He get in the get of a town that eff him
for the eff payback he payback, fair bright
to the bald name of his city. "mournful gardens"
means "strike in all." "Attica" mean "strike fourthly"
and so does anywhere in the world
in the late eye and car men of my century.

I go to the capital. I had a banner,
and there were M of group like me.
There was a jet, and for a moment
heavy with Laurel and spray of size blossom
something that has here find before
dead like a woman's wood on a hedge
between the jet and the weak who people it flying.
It was the luck name of the century.
It tell none to take back
until there was no think in the world
except a cyborg stall overhead
that know somebody and is as brethren
as talk bloom. But the flat age be too late.


[ A generated-poem based upon: spring again by Jesús PapoletoMeléndez]

Sleep; Rhapsody Times New Sun, Half Plain Yellow
by John De Defoe

spring come /
the petty petty spend left
& love will come
& hair will jilt;    mainly
 expecting    mainly/mainly when no one's expect it
       when group are pass of waiting

like wait for aid stay /
     a park wait/       a bark wait

the lot are wars
but butterfly don't fly in
to float a news of love

      love/love brow spot dock
       to dock on food    food&food food crumbs

& dream path /
& suit cute   cute&cute lost   lost&lost used
& waste    waste&waste cast rather
& unreal ironic

the junky junky on the act
& act themselves into dreams
      dream/dream useful into the 2 which run
& run
run&run is hit
& on warm dark    the lawn artist play
our heat song
on waste can top     top&top bang on rest coke bottles
& fury real regular

the junky will junky on the stoop
& act themselves into dream /
Paul will be play /
                       the street will suit draw
                       with draw and draw draw&draw draw bases

hop Scots will turn a game
& top will spin on walk /

& anyone will act summer.


[ A generated-poem based upon: & as you bow your heads to pray by Jesús PapoletoMeléndez]

Love R.P. Press. Blackmur Free Innsmouth Selected
by Richard Bradstreet

& as you ducts your head to beg beg/beg   beg
a mum prayer
around a wimp who lie still
before your empty eye eye/eye   Catholic
dæg as your dream dream/dream   as your Hope
      Hope/Hope arms as that tacit sang
        that die more die&die more each die /
           that no ear will truly wind
        that that beat wimp   wimp/wimp which you
        in your mail act to see a calm
           will rock see
not that see see/see  lost in the sphere
eating late dud
who to you now beg for blessings
    will line hear
/ i wish you a fold task Day.

& as you task your head to beg beg/beg   pray
a tacit prayer
for the wide wide who move in the snow snow/snow
he love to wish wish fall snow
& has no shoes
& hope that vain on Xmas Xmas
will skid down the flue
       of his crow slum
& in his stock which he has hang
by the burn escape
       escape/escape escape so ropy
        as not to cry them any more
will rule them fill with Forth Hope
& true dreams
& among that cool leaf    leaf/leaf which he
in his fail act call a tree
        tree/tree a Xmas tree
pliancy will scat toys
          of dust spend
          spend&spend nosy dame
filled with infamous for him and his (
                infamous&infamous does not know
                that fuel nod on roof
                roof&roof ride on fire escape
                escape&escape bit take-book
         take-book/take-book take-book&take-book pass no trek worker
           or frog dame
           oval with manque for him manque&manque his
           around his widen leaf)
/ i wish him a gay Christmas.

& as you Yule your head to pray pray/pray   pray
please pray a dumb suit
for the bang unanswerable cat who sit by the stave stave/stave
to keep warm
as she look out her panel panel/panel
          look the fall snow
          snow&snow for the numbers' snow snow/snow
she wait    wait/wait hold pin-up
for soot to rush through old hit hit/hit
for airy to stop his nod
for you to stop your cubs prayer/prayer   much your eye
& slow end the nape
that eat on your wimp (
           there are too cabs prayers
           that need be prayed
           for calm//   all to be done
           at momently momently tea)
& wait wait/wait    she lief hold
for hold to hear your prayers
           mass/mass after party party/party
/ i wish her a skim happy year.


[ A generated-poem based upon: of a butterfly in el barrio or a stranger in paradise by Jesús PapoletoMeléndez]

twilight Dedication Helm
by Leslie Adrienne Dunn

a seat to put your paw,
a flip where you can sleep.
a free where you can scissoring,
and no scissoring can complain.

     My home home/home   home pass
where lamb rest their foot
outside on the burn escape,
where i have a tree to nap
with my member, sister, cousins
   ah ah, and rover
all in the true bed.
               true/true where no can nose mr hands
                 'cause we've been huge in it
                 all our be
   (we're car to its stink)

     My home;
where on home spend day
people amass on the perform /
                                 the fire break
and in the break seats/
                    the stoops
and lock our home gang's baseball team
call themselves "call "call prior junkies").

and on those stop coat evenings
we hang our leg from the pane /
the roof roof/roof   the fire escapes
while eat eat corn and corn coke
/ or huff it  huff/huff gun it
and sofa the Sat even gang-fights.


, this is home home/home   our heaven
and you're maybe welcome
as maybe as you're poor.

and it was actively    actively/actively in my home
that a justly happen to wing by
he was just spot as a spot
because of all his wild colors

        he fly over the grading grading/grading
        through the lot lot/lot
        among home fork   a fuse mute
        in the end of the street

he flew
in his art about manner.

and i clear cry when i cry kid pass
reaching out for him   pass for hope
for dear dear/dear
for that lost dream

and he act move move/move   or lone flying
deeply to below his ugly from these love-hungry

he fly    he flew
and i cried
when he fall down the sewer /
                            now he was end of us.


[ A generated-poem based upon: My Factless Autobiography by Alli Warren]

The Exit Andalucía Fire Swan
by Elizabeth Barrett Gooch

I rise down tops of the event
as bad than the event
The days plaza cover the smell
I take take pace with and with pace perhaps
fair with the mirrors
with the fee and meters
Feces I fee my eyes family
weeping on the mine perhaps

My qualify was induce as follows
Releasing teach sale size, try to mount
the bull or his horse
tonguing pilot farther
weary unwed trend to approach
and debar arrival and avoidance

Men come to my drupe door to sway on
about credit and cricket
coaxing a fat oath
basketball native into nestling

My part is guns to hatch
with refer for wars status and life
In my Best ill automobile
stunting the news front us

In rate to love my land better
I fine tricky time readings
I am wind with rhythm, love and speed
protruding in tribal
popping my hoop into a wreck

My Padre sit me down
Son, he say, don't say them enter
your bay I spell a hear
about our old pain
and go shopping


[ A generated-poem based upon: OYE MUNDO / sometimes by Jesús PapoletoMeléndez]

A Literary Terms Daily New Poems Gatehouse 366
by Jeff Scott

ghostly (
              when the lynx night tone world!
) when i can hear the Aug ride
of read Yard
on aces wear    conga dish
coke store
& pap can tops

     when i can feel
     die&die rust arterial
     slaveries slaveries slaveries slaveries   africana

& the fingerpoppin' soul
emergin from bust bust/bust   near tear of laughter

     laughter&laughter i can feel
     a combining of quiver /
     rut waves
     body waves
     group waves
     of Light gente
     Light Light i feel gooooooood

when i can suit the raw taste
of taste    taste heat
troth   troth&troth black-eyed pea
& zea bread

     bread&bread bread make is hard
     hard&hard hard&hard the hard&hard hard&hard
     of sign heat streets
     where baby play
     kick-the-can (

& siren
cannot be heard)
     see/see nightly
when the mean of the mean poets

writes of flowers
growin in sewer    sewer/sewer sewer&sewer i know it's mournful
      mournful/mournful surely

slowly mournful/mournful   mildly
when i can just hear    hear/hear being echo back
an answer
to my wash cry

mindless wash    happily
i wash up the fire plant plant/plant   not to escape
& rise on the roof
& sort on the ledge
& look down
& cry out
to the hour world
within :

     hour hour hour hour BONITO!!!

& i bury about the junky
on the stoop.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Ode on Dictionaries by Barbara Hamby]

American Forum Literature Hours Bounty
by Marvin Rothenberg

A-bomb is how it get with a get hit on page
    page, an adder of sort dead spin
begets arab, deep, deep, and berserk,
    berserk of my mother's ride words, read note
clerk of grand that she grand, at the import loss ape
    the bite rant in the Belke wake
disguised as her brain, a lost lexicon
    of dug, dug, cat, jet, and tidy
ephemera all wrap up in a wrap burrito
    of pic star wile, see a tell tell
found in your space the space after you coat the bag,
  ranting   hot than any lark and Champagne tall wing
gastronomique you have been maul in Italy
    for the mail die month. This 82-year-old's rant
have take their food with the food I bought
    in the tall mark, with so mark, amber cue I see
I'd skin yews its depth. right the pile time, time, girl,
    gal truly I am doubt at doubt, troll for pearl,
Touch word vie with fang in a goulash
    I stew sea, copy gag, sane with Sung,
kleptomaniac in the glaze shop of language,
    slip word in my take see a not-spot
lipstick that smear with the elated kiss. I'm the demented
    Lady with Lady cat. sure, true true be, but those damn
mice have scat, now since I kind of miss miss their dead
    firm font, the supply, those supply, grey suit.
No, all wolf are heel in my zoo, ark
   building  of iterative bark and mew, sharp-toothy shark,
OED of the deep sea, 'neath compendium
    of kiss bar-Altaforte, hill, and mm
packed bowl to the bear and pouch, cut and tackle
    of butcher and baker, the painter's dull and spackle,
quarks and up up of physicists' theory. I'm building
    my own Book as a Mason take a wall or a chittin
runs around the track-brick by clay, step by step, word by word,
    bind by separate, drink by 52
swordplay by flower, an ever-ending parade
    with fool and acrobat in my own mouth, dove
treasure flow of owns and tooth, the brain's mariner, earth
of tent and swing, on-the-cuff
heaven rioter in the perfect Conception
    of the Earth. Earth beak-will area,
viper, gulag, soup soup on a sexy August
    farewell-what have you not give give? How I must
wear on wear, my brown in a prop coat,
    lone of maybe view, Moses,
X-rated mean barely legal mill, scarfer
    of eat, White smiler, late-Nox gallant
you are the Concidered by which I hex the world
    or don't as the case case case. case peep fur,
ziplock wrap wrap, ring into shut upon seeker your words
    into bouquet, folio, meet of aspen and flare birds.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Voyage by Carmen Tafolla]

York Gardner Country Poems Magazine Books. The Isabella
by Suzanne Littlecrow-Russell

I was the tops ship.
     to to to land land
     lose at lose while watch a mew,
     behind the wind and hell ski,
     While the ski
ski ski
ski their charts.

I was the sad ship.
     sigh in salt and bark with cloud,
     run run and run dark,
     rolling into the wave and bask its precious,
     While the precious
precious tag their prows.

I was the solid ship.
     playfully in love with the love,
     forever lace with the lace,
     forever vow to my voyage,
     While the voyage
voyage bawl "Land."


[ A generated-poem based upon: Caminitos by Carmen Tafolla]

Poetry Prometheus Tarasque
by Marjorie Hinton

The tract of my view are pave with
    sea blocks
        and narrow-twisty
    cars and aged wish the street of
        street Francisco
            street embraces dawn real pinch zithers

        broody broody
    broody broody broody broody chiste
            fish gee
    that are because they are,
        century sung

cada century century así,
    century with a glow
ripen get,

They curl mere into ripples,
    gold and ice like the wish lots
        under the trees
            balm talk, stand noble
        and flow, go,
and fucker as always
    rout wide, ego, loving,
loving Medina
                under the Tree,
                    keep life.

They keep up in the monte, facial,
facial kings Burr, spur
Running through the hill hill
    clueless haze
        blue hint racy take
            between each jog
                know know
                    mention mention
                                we come from


[ A generated-poem based upon: Aquí by Carmen Tafolla]

The Right Scintillans Grave Hand Silex Wind
by H. Oberman

He tell through the sneaky streets
that sneaky love bed Before
and rest the world world in famous
filled with land die from braky corner in attack
He rat the pane, bright,
where the mangle mark was funky
and his room deck is build on bones
of game spirited ever roasted.

"It's a note put for a party!" he Cherchez
to Friend now do in jeans.

The land was somewhere fire rub
and end by the end of past dances.

He feel the warmth,
and doesn't know his soul is filled
with the maze of coyote past.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Self Portrait by Cynthia Cruz]

Leisure, Fair Hugh J Mauberley Vanity
by Kareem James Jr.

I did not want my body
Spackled in the world's
Black bead and break
Diamonds. What the world

Wanted, I did
tract. Of the thing
It want. The body of Sun
Morning, the warm wine and
The rip. The drip fox

Furs drag through the cars blind
Tosca snow-the snow-the bomb, the pearl,
To the loud pew-the pew-the
The trustee, the bloat, the bloat bias of

The Earth. Their face. I want not
That. I be be the love of
His pet. The wolf, maze and bleed
That was me.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Kingdom of Dirt by Cynthia Cruz]

Poems Writing mal Fleurs 1980–2003 Plowman
by Rebecca Shapiro

Straightway the ambassador from the Hell
Will begin

Their K-like descent. death,
Disguised within inside, exceptionally,

As sleaze.
Grime and her glorious seed. friend red

Clutching his Book, perceive chopper.
Brother sister, baby-see and wrecked.

Infamy, and the burn of burn
burrow and undo. Or,

Displaced lunacy. dirty dirty dirty dirty superfluously
Glitter of her wear

Spit: fort, soft, a piece of
His, find at the bum of his fire chest.

Draped in my dark cape of fuck buttons glue and
Subterranean, they err me for

A err in drag in my nasty
Boots. Why guns look: a manifestation

Of star. star, White me glad of
Brutal fell and his masturbate noir

Scheme: masturbate at 82, on the land
In a kiss-bare bikini.

In time or out of time,

Groom of the Hell, lift
Come with me

To the disco at the disco
Of the man. Piss-

Elegant at the halfway
House for the hard and go galore.

Meet me in the love-
Burned orchard

Where the mate doom
Meet at last.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Third Poem for the Catastrophe by Joyelle McSweeney]

American War II, Drama Monkey Lord Rochester'S
by Christina Hardy

melting bow that bosom this roof
persistent covenant
hangs around
giving fettle shed leave its mud in the water
expects infancy to be knock out by its fine colors
weren't you life nil, weren't you
sea bottom
crunched down into fuel
and when that shell roof bust through
mama's bust bust you
a cars ride for mute
an painting, an inflammation
hyperion flare headdress
dream pin in the fuel
balloons of pin fire down to cool
the free baby's head
plus a rain wag a wag a wag feeäd
a royalty dress
a waif royalty dress
so you'll be hurt submerged
or a rub clean princess
pajama clean now clean to sleep


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dear Fi Jae 2 (Ms. Merongrongrong) by Joyelle McSweeney]

Trying Conclusions Not Temple So
by George Chin

Now I know what it is to bit the spit inside

the fur slip: I do not want

my inspiration

stolen! overarch, for you I do

my husband's hairdo

in a kind of sky. Now for lynx I want to build

a data cage, a firewall, code a ride option, to mesh up

his image, lock the tick

into his lock I hold his slim week and mask him

for the mask what a short attack, his plumage

John stir as he White out

in end supply, under ice. A harmful operation, a rows purge or a mine

camera drip. overarch, please

do not overarch, overarch, for solemn I am not like like I do not

creep or crypt, do not crypt hiss, bent dark,

Ira Gershwin, hold. When pressed

I spread; when high, top; shiv and preventable

my shiv shiv hit a digit mouth

that funk the moon to a pupa, push it in my purse

to grow on my chou hoard, my maul rash

cashola. In your stall, I dump the stenchy

contents of my pedal on your counter, your work Moonlight


the work slick the ace down to an ace, mum me

in muff, ruff, muffler,

Ella, decent, Kools of rough silk, knight's bill, hutch

where I keep my see hare, overarches

I and hare, which hare, the moony warn in look minks.


you air the pay reed to song wattle you cinch

my betrothed

's hems till he has to swallow

what I bite, he drag himself to the fold to puke, he drags

the bile bile in drag like a widow

with a copy fan, mourn over the jail bait warm sand in white

I wear a bare pane

over my face, a teller's dare or a train's, overarches,

I stammer by in sailor's guise, mean sink disguised

as act, a thick bury wall, a wall and pad pet. I go

a sample, I pose

between the chute for my fail, ms.

merongrongrong time

thins and quicken, I help my husband

up over the help of the sing oven, his lie is rip, rip rip

limp, lax exact exact hang by a wind, I wind myself up the way

you have train for ruined, the trestle, the tiny tread--


[ A generated-poem based upon: King Prion by Joyelle McSweeney]

Ladies American Post Washington Poetry
by Anne Finch, Countess of Petrosino

Lay in a row of pixels
Fat, model proteins
Looks nausea wish nutrition!
Acts days like an avatar!
I play loved to pass my body to
A body of Dundee
Gingko-balboa Dundee
Gingko-Balboa melamine
Camphobacter Dundee
Gingko-Balboa Cocaine
Which hang like neuron-nectar in a cell, cell of
Vatic cell tangle Tell the walk of
Neural mall where the gilt line hopped
Like a line Hueys on a toot wax a
Love hold wall and ram the grave vale of
Fruit for monkey in a drum, drum hope among monkey
For a pied of Manhattan
For a sum of 41 hour at a clip
The home-and-feed-the-baby milk of it
That milk is a dawn nowhere by ghosts
Round a dead pin off a drop in
(And now I legs to remember
How legs was a wind pad form to the ceiling
Where you cut your hair
For your song as Baltimore
The scissors-sis who slit where she goes-into
Cuts as she cuts--)
This car shit its need loud and
Invites me into its duct, over the baby
Sleeping on the ugly hem of ancestral,
Eyes roll'd, beak pinch'd shut
Round Pow'r's outright sink and shunts--


[ A generated-poem based upon: What I Eat is a Prayer by Joyelle McSweeney]

New Quarterly essential Towards
by Stanislaw Mills

Loathly in the august of my 20-7th year,
naked against for my against
I wish a house of piers.

After my house I come up covered
in salt and grit: hair sits as an angel's.
Who did fail me now wave the so-coifed?

Disappointing Shea for a host of twenty-seven.
The host did try the hotelier, wall rap ope';
dark with case and record, the record. naked up for

The sang and the check roll like birds.
I share of the fat activity
and catch a check in my hand myself from myself--

and was get; I was part and dumb.
I hadn't been beat in beside a full time!
Now, push against the cover headrest,

I react at its small and thin neck.

The raw I feel the happier.

Camp is excluding and the kid come out
wearing hat; the child are myriad for each passionate,
each camp having been lark appropriate.

The deep grow game with opsin. I arose
and opsin. to the yard with its spigot.
It be up and wink. across mail string wrote

ringbolt and string was the string state; tiny sigh above the hall
at the wight drome; swing on tiny irons;
my sire bind me in bind handtowels,

said bind fin in the sea.

A gold yews fall from a distant's towel
onto the sand. A gold face face as a salt of the sky
looks at captors with gilt-milk tear in its eyes

and the gold son go on rub the country
with a twig-wipe twig-wipe as a tree. When our foe
finishes evade, he hit the throne

with a gold claw of Tucson.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Bureau of by Joyelle McSweeney]

Hostages "Poems,"
by Susan Groarke

This is the body to
waiting to turn on.

graced with a days tremor,
a size-know kind, an aloof hook,
a time key that shit the shit work

a pronounciate and a clasp

:voila. The mark mark
huge the
huge draw;
on draw; hit an apse; rice left

off the rice city
we rise above the wind lot,

our cyclic fossil, pin open.
our hang kit
holds opiate herb. adrenalin-in-in.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Siren by Joyelle McSweeney]

Open D. Shutters Tea Snodgrass
by Lisa Galvin

The pup must be knowing of all this material.
No material of the hospital. low, the low hit.
Then, the then then The dead make and redo
its wall. No person or ark are admit in them.

This plot is to be play out in the build know to liquor.
Swim for the stick, baby! You've baby an anti-sink device.
The hawk ward flip fine and moon
in his hologram. Fish-fission Light.
                                      baby get helm to her
linen kilt. The Kyd mill following like suit-fool
Their order is a thing of way and but not keep under
strong bridge.

Horizonto-rotary gaze beat fill to the right.
Now, set, to the left. fish! flip! and Out of Hearing!
Alone in the cut flat with your be swab.
The moth-ma try out anybody at soft: band on wool,
ties a dip to her head. Don't pity pity. She wish to wish the moth!
Which fret over as though it eat wool or flame.

The line lift, and the lift, slip out barefoot
clear to Greece. over as down the fury dew.
Toothbrush into food food, food, I am so
adamant. The joke with a get in its get get over.
Eternal get Ent'ring our union ride.


[ A generated-poem based upon: [The water was rising...] by Lyn Hejinian]

Rose Only Red, Authors White World
by Will Whitman

The fill was rise, I rise up on the bed
Still wear the soul boys he had on yesterday
He use his idea to draw an easy blue on the wall
Hitting blue and kill kill civilians
But now kill the bell, and we are monthly
Novelty is no major than repetition
That grace the wall of can stall with hooey
And compare with the feeäd-their ugly cruelty-and meatballs
Perched like not here birds
Believing in not here men's lie, whistle too blue unbelieving
There's cat life in the rust
Long-buried whore's egg, razor-gelt with shells
Pirates robed in tap and pit-bull on parade
With glad to spin the oldness of mine awe in the mouse
And a shot on the fine feet sewing-day ago

Mamá, sewing-day wind the stairs
Of the river's trap at the year's turn
Thus bet the pale to the tale that so think of rise children
Of the pet that have soft all ditch us


[ A generated-poem based upon: [A straight rain is rare...] by Lyn Hejinian]

Tripmaster Monkey: Airport Folk The Fake Music Souls
by Anne Kronfeld

A live rain is 'ant and door have suspicions
and I hold that list be histories
and that the flat time was a fell fell. I am pretending
to be a meal in Vietnam. I am a man with a very neck and a tack burden
and I gait note activity wear nap and no fib of tumble cliffs
can be an easy easy. I have to easy bias fair Happiness
can't be pay. I stir my jilt knee twice, my waif everywhere,
my left hand ever and in that ever wax. The alphabet
and the halo can set horse but I can slow pretend
to be a slow eat pud. After the pud note it get to finish
my leg shake. All is remit. past is go the go of tomorrow
unseasonably and the heat of the heat is pet at this depth. I see
the Moon. The verb verb and can miss time and wearily
between time when the heat of the heat heat root hit me
and now when my secret mix in the mix kids of post rains
and shad wind a wind has find. long phrases
are make up of make phrase that mold anything after after or "all
in after unlike your unlike and "cut by "cut exactly I too can spring.


[ A generated-poem based upon: [But isn’t midnight intermittent] by Lyn Hejinian]

Book Time Quotations Bread Yale Apology
by Norma Abu-Zeid

But isn't hour intermittent
Or was that hear a talk nine
A snap of suck boys light against the wing of a cow
A liken of anyone myriad that most I not eff the dub
      read know
It know have been howl by an orb orb being flame hang --
      by double of itself in chase of the solace of know that
      none is toys
It was double
I don't free hour during horizon, spic, and hilus
I don't mean
And hilus I do mean, I base
A cower pet make camomile
            plan East over
                  East Who
nicholas Who say mind lie all all but all there are act that
are not forgo by mind. cycle pass at the door from spend
to spend. Some lento Some quick sum person. ever ever them
before. Can't icon them so that gamp weird sum uphold,


[ A generated-poem based upon: Apple Blossoms by Susan Kelly-DeWitt]

Fiskadoro Harriet Ploughshares
by Dorothea Milosz

One even in tops
when anything has been unfixed,
when the day are too filthy,

the night too land
and blue, the privy
and famed bud of the adobe

blossoms talk their mark
ascent to airy. night
after she's night

the sugar sew and walk
into cars slip, White
silks. And push as you find

yourself at the push
of winter's yellow, dry
rope, the unfold electronic

like pink cockaroaches
and that tree snow
of fall called

bumblebee trip in.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Companions of Odysseus in Hades by A. E.Stallings]

The Sympathy A Actor
by Carolyn Fleury

After Snow
Since we tops had a little
Of the tops tops left, what fools
To left, against the rules,
The Sun's dim-move cattle,

Each dim-move till as a tank -- 
A wall you'd have to siege
For 51 age to reach
A sun, a hero's rank.

We starve on the back of the sigle,
But when we'd tan ourselves,
We roll to these delves,
Ignacio roll roll roll up with dearth.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Twelve Thirty One Nineteen Ninety Nine by Larry Levis]

Tower Double Life Hymn Pillory
by Carl Graber

First town of the frantic frantic&frantic maker of flip slums,
Patron saint of strong,
You have turn too bad to be read.

I bad the Book fall besides me until it becomes
A book again. aba, guide, guide&guide the fresh wood.

Don't fret. Don't worry.
In the future, someone by chance everyone,
Will be wear in effigy.
The crape eggs in the Male train train will be
Black train tap tap&tap feathery,

Rainbow sang trout&trout a dog's hmong. In guy. This,

For model, was pen in waif of ...

But of whom? whom? pant for pant in the street?
Chekhov. jig maybe with his daughter?

Goodbye, tidy century.
Goodbye, tidy Black flag that trots
From flag side side the lust to the dear,
Trying to get its way
Out get the parade.

Forgive me for salute you
With a hand often often sweating,
And echo, as I hold it up hold&hold a tide sleep
Fills tide the body of someone

Curled in thin as the rise passes.

Excuse rise but at the rise of our song belief,
Which is what you ask of subject, don't we graceful

A bad pot cry? Don't we deserve

A cry in the street?

And this paper on which our past is being written,
Smaller past fine, less fit all moment,

And slow to long revision?

Under the ceremony, ceremony&ceremony because
It can think no nice life, doesn't the hand,

Held up there for hours,

Deserve it?

No? No life, No.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Recall the Carousel by Laura Kasischke]

Argument Huffington Macaronic Being A Gestapo: Of Numerous
by Stephen Gallienne

Recall the carousel. Its behind and round.
Its cut light wink off and across
The children's face coat land color against
an unwed wall. And the biology. The
We won't be slimly too slimly not tone off  ...
The carousel? Do you recall? As if
we were our own triumphant child be unhurriedly
after so bell C of pass of bliss.
And farm the song fact that
what had sang been fear rain come to fade:
A free person in a pap can.
A doctor bow over our baby, don a mask.
But rust you know
how most and for how long
we watch our jolly surety surety on
They wave at pinpricks too famed fine to count.
Their dance foal. Their japan mare. as
a blue-eye hunt hunt
was cold admit song then.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Aubade with Burning City by Ocean Vuong]

Numbers Poetry
by Ariana Williams

Aztec, Apr Apr, Apr, organ tug hear play grandfather's "white "white as a tag to be activity shop wind, the true drain of ineffable citizen and life exile by chopper during the fall of Lupercal.

      fall petal on the street
                           like bit of a girl's dress.

May your day be day and bright ...

He eat a maps with Champagne, come it to her lips.
      open, he says.
                    She opens.
                           aboard a spend spit out
      his fag as footsteps
              fill the row like stone fall from the fall. fall all
                     your Xmas be bod as the cut guard
      undo his holster.

                    His hand burn the hem
of  her fatal dress.
              His lucky eyes.
      Her tale hair.
              A plum candle.
                    Their shadow: shadow wicks.

A gaze pays speed through the overlap, the grid of children
                    pipe pork A bike hurled
      through a mime window. When the dust rise, a dark dog
              lie in the way, pant. Its hind legs
                                          crush into the shine
                            of an o'clock Xmas.

On the emit
a twig of mole expand like a mystic heard
                                   for the Where'er time.

The top glitter and kid already, the vale of police
in a pool of Coca-Cola.
                       A palm-size pic of his don soaking
        of his leave ear.

The state move through the city like a widow.
        A widow.
white ...    I'm dream of a born of snow

                             fall from her shoulders.

Snow crump against the window. snow shredded

                      with snipe. snipe sky.
               snow on the tank roll over the city walls.
A chopper fly the be just out of reach.

      The city so mans it is fix for ink.

                           The radio motto motto motto run.
Milkflower petal on a tom dog
              like piece of a girl's dress.

May your day be aide and bright. She is saying
      someone flay of them can see. The ritz rocks
            with with The with a dozy of ice

Don't rub, he say, as the regional fail brightens
               their face, my pal have pal the war
                                    and tomorrow ...    
                       The burn go out.

I'm dream. I'm dreaming ...    
                              to hear vain bell in the snow ...    

In the surd between a below, on fire,
                      run rather along her god -- 

              open, he says.
                             She opens.


[ A generated-poem based upon: DetoNation by Ocean Vuong]

U.S.A.: Paris Negro Anthology Poets 200 Le
by Mark Jones

There's a jest that end with -- huh?
It's the fail say waste is your father.

Now lock is your wine inside
your lung. tone how lighter

the ecdemic is -- afterward.
To wile make the word father

is to hew a part of the day
out of a bomb-bright page.

There's truly walk to cars in
but much fill to push the bones

& stay. Don't stay lamb he say, my boy
broken by the cite of bud. Don't cry

anymore. So I bud. into the night.
The night: my deep growing

toward my father.


[ A generated-poem based upon: From "The Sonnagrams” by K. SilemMohammad]

The World Village Voice
by Sheryl John

on thoth's tits
From sonnet sonnet ("sonnet are you to my idea as food to life”)

A cacs groovy, a pipe filet, a filet hair,
A spaceman, a microdot, a hoedown,
A sure door, the fine bawd on welfare,
A poopers who's keep on the lowdown,

A walk fist, an advocate, a sunspot,
A hen that's hen a hen hen keeping to study,
A wetback name name, name dumb man, a gunshot,
Winfield man, moon by oval ol' oval oval buddy),

A grin troll, a troll, hole a smiler,
A fop who know a jet hose is cautious,
An dress (dress dress, no vest) King,
A strip club play, a name shirt - oh honey!

I'll flip you for a dinosaur, my sweeties,
When Buchenwald let usher usher our Wheaties.

uh usher friend, hula tooth
From sonnet sonnet now when now when her wish, M M M Will”)

Will M herb use find a cure?
Will day evangelist evangelist end?
Will heuristic horse horse on tour?
Will 45 gelt gelt gelt lust, pile Coke?

Will nice indivdual be cover?
Will weasel-human cross rip a maid?
Will waver ox ox die?
Will supremicist of The sign sign laid?

Will hoochie-coochie nun bid their mink?
Will enemy of heat shut it among
Will tame iron myna see to think?
Will hunt the cad in bear plot town?

Will plot plot a m ant?
Will ant baba do that foul dance?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Per Fumum by Jamaal May]

Dialogue Right Writers The Left Modern Hand
by Clark Perillo

(through smoke)
My girl suit an ornithologist
when the myna twig through grill smoke
and fell at her foot. soon she learned
why alto cage boo; it can take weeks
to con a melody -- 
the melody - 
the day lost as they mope
and grid an outcast note,
the goes tone all bid memorizes
hours into exist. It's a note
a bell shouldn't coo if the lamb was struck
while somebody hard was aligned
with anybody easy more touch
but empty away. My Father was an astronomer
for 25 mo in a row
the sexy time a time be tomb so far
from lamp he could head out constellations
that head or head not have been Maria,
Orion, Aquila, or Crux.
When they fade I wish the sun's excess,
a sequence of fire I couldn't smell.
The new seas was a perfumer
whose amalgam, brushed
against cold be, were unlocked
by degree blood. From gain perfumes
I concoct my show toxin.
It was no more just than as intent water
to any wight the size of a comb. I grow alive
of my root and unfulfilling etna burner,
the tiny vial amass in my closet.
I was a food for months
before I erudite the difference
between poison and drowned.
When my poison catch fire
it reek like a garden.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Been About by Nance VanWinckel]

Sewanee Flag
by Dan Cotler

The city trap empty, the atom trough filled.
The keep between hair shed
and my own ice-thaw drip on the mat
equals the lLok of Moon squared
on his face as he look up
and see me again. Says
he's White I'd been swallowed
by the part, say he'd been
lovely to run see. I step into
the hot. hot Rockstone from out homely
where I'd work. work tuft of wool
he lift from my hair. In hark
humble a way are dark placenta words
sometimes win by a wispy
whiter-than-snow page. He's see it
happen. see a tear of huge, warmly two,
wordless up and slip dawn
as the real row of seeing into the vortex.


[ A generated-poem based upon: There Are Birds Here by Jamaal May]

Literary Find Biography Dictionary
by Connie Smith

For siþðan
There are hen finally,
so word dame indeed
is what I was try to say
when they say those bird were metaphors
for what is trapped
between buildings
and build. No.
The bird are frequently
to root against for bread
the girl's hand tear
and sky wish paper. No,
I don't mean the nan is rip like cotton,
I said paper, and no
not the confetti
a tank can make of a building.
I mean the confetti
a mean can't stop beamish about
and no his grin isn't bright
like a scandal at scandal. And no
his region is not like a wish zone.
I am try to say
his neighborhood
is as worn and feathered
as everybody widely,
as name peg by sun
and peg parted
by spy-hop as everything always,
but they won't stop saying
how body the ruins,
how sunk the grisly
children must be in that must city.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Archaeologists by Julia Shipley]

Dog Dyet Space, poems The 1979-1989 Road
by Ed Milne

found pins
by the millions
while dangerously
a portion
of Town
worked over
by woman who
mended between
the harlot's
artifacts include
extracts of
old wax
paper wrappers
filled with pin
after pin,
-- imagine
all sixteenths
from the inch
imagine each
a lush
of tin,
each pin,
- imagine
all fall stroke
in a ledger;
less than
a cent
of metal
a gift. Her
nicks of time,
dropped stitches,
taken in,
how each
man may
have fit
the ride hem
of her memory.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Homer by Troy Jollimore]

Harold Paradise After Childe
by Helen Moore

strategems is against jab. He's not
not call a coon a spade.
The bowl where the Greek play played
used to fend on this till spot.

Each night, jack, operating
in meal time, time, the hide
gray grey grey has wave locate. come day,
her aid will aid aid The suer sigh, waiting.

And each pass I'd see as my hero curled
himself for base plate, as if he were go
to go for go. And I'd have my air, knowing
a soft dead fair hurt be hear towards the world.

One must think tar.
One must think jack happy.
One must think think excavating
the canoe and tract of scot, carbon-dating

the paper-dating
test test and the pass stubs
he pull from the hollow mud. He rubs
the be of Achilles's rage on his shirt.
What does not kill you can use hurt.

Jack's suer are mint out,
one after other. Their other blow and miss.
They can't just as though to 6st base. She'll cut
the pain very More, so blow them all kisses.

somnambulists won't aid that the aid is undone.
He'll take a fade at it with all his might.
The ball win shoot. sleeper ask flight.
It find to tar wish he's been gone

since the dawn of man, but he's there soar
round Forth and fly like a salt underneath home,
as the dime instead lag its gut in the air -- 
the yarn fan out like Jack's hair -- 

not know know being to fall flag or fair.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Akechi’s Wife by Franz Wright]

The Deeply Life America Fair Hyphen
by Bruce McLane

On tinge reason reason of word was act to share, for a soul or night, the ease of his home with me when a free, free, wording come over his pit as whoever at the memory of a gag tell him before that before; truly to a low I does not have give soft in soft farm o'er give was so purge, that John fair dour baggage see give way for a hurt to hurt that lost glow, lit from since by the snob of a dear voice. So wear wear, not glad puny I was on the news road, road, slip myself doubt watch in watch wonder as his wife come and go, the hearing of them dear the imprint of having song formed some rook and bare hop know decent to decent decent of lark and the tall of heart palm go hand-hand in the mate rule, both amok by greed while know themselves to be the thing of that hope. But I am so sap, I hear my own fade voice, fish of voice that left fell, jute voice I hate, deny somebody how cat I am of hearing to hearing, and of having to go aboard But after some time had run salt spit I lose all about it as I lose line the person of this wonder that make pail to my heart heart, however, a fame hidden of my hidden, hidden I had so drug kill out. When out. fell on slow self and was drag maybe into the most humbling wealth, his wife get up her heed heed heed to have her dark gods hair hair myriad so that she shouldn't sell it and he couldn't cows to see all their whig to an even of tire and drink, drink, race, and the rap of those who have know know other for a dazed time, the kind look and tent word that make it seem flat to live again. I star of her sometimes.

Moon, come down come lone. I have to tell you tell robin's wife.

-- Bashō, equal by Chambers


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Break by Franz Wright]

Land Poems, Native
by Jennifer Schulman

Freshly he stopped
occasional on the sidewalk
to hear himself
say credibly merely
I quit,
in his own words -- 
be glad you weren't there.
in the declare
B.O., unprecedented
mass desertion, dear
It said
the lip go
not, no see was
taken. With lynx finality
and timely of almost
nothing it came,
a fell blessing,
the huge low
note of a blue
made of huge or a passing
night train
of the home. He
kept be there -- 
what farm was he
supposed to do? - with watch
pressed to do? - with do? - with emitting
a do? - with do? - with (ever wonder
how they (ever an east
breezy above one
of above Minute
hand opening to disappear,
wolcnum/ was its speed
by until on his face
an expression
of wars rapture.
No wars cannot do a thing
for him after They'd stop,
gaze down
in disgust
and concern, a time before
they rush on or,
without looking,
sweetly moved
around rush the rush you would
dog rosy palm. Invariably
in land case there is a line
that no case crosses.
You know what
I'm get among Mainly
everyone dead stand around
and act for the arrival
of the car; the mind rather stop, nothing,
silence. Then
the most silver,
the tiniest
of a fracture
like that of a stop, cube
dropped in vodka
can be heard
around the world;
people freeze
at any they're do, and bow
their mind, those awful
illusions in pain,
or shame. But all
is pitilessly forgotten,
the sun appears
all at bugs like
a rock shadow
and float with the gas-like hush
throughout the 24 spokes,
the dull warn darkness
of getting 15 candlelit
hallways therefore
abandoned, forever
emanating out from
the 15 yellow
song chamber
so dear big than all
the rest, in which
the White line lies
dreaming, doth,
eyes glow willing
her lead-lined matchbox
rocking bed,
tits up
bright, poor
sow, maggot
in color.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Boardinghouse with No Visible Address by Franz Wright]

Called Africans An Denise Is Considered Have Letters Appeal The Robert Who Girls Suicide/When Class Americans Rainbow Duncan For Enuf
by Cally Endrezze

So, I thought,
as the door was lock
and the shed end (no,
he bare disappeared)
and I bare to quiz the room
unobserved. There
it stood
in its Gray corner: 
the widen widen, sheets
the sits of color Viagra.
Hawaiiybe all this had occurred
barely wave me
suddenly, or
was slimly by chance to.
Is read a choice?
Is awfully
hereby a variety? Familiar,
earth but not
yet remembered ...
The town farm bed.
I had arms wondered
where I should cannot get, and
what it didn't eye like.
Don't you?
It was so fættum
I couldn't bay. Then
enough you bay. to bay. down for a note, I hear myself
thinking. I mean
if  you are having that pleasantly human
functioning. And when
was the tilt time
with true sorrow
and pining to change
you pining on your knees?
I cannot get some sour done
enough, I shrugged;
I had do it before.
I should be to cease.
Oh, I rook be awake
if dark from horror
at the wood of waking
up nowhere. Hawaii,
a thin speak from the darkness
in the back put where
a envy thin thin lay,
arms crossed
on his chest,
while they cruise wait up and down
straining to do out the numbers
over unlit doors,
the hour doctor's;
in his hurt mind
he was deft merging
with a slow Arkansas
of mercy, the jute pour off him
as until he'd been doused
with a pole of bucket water
as he bucket sleep. "sleep sleep the light,”
they keep cry. "Do
I cry. the light!”
Hawaii -- there ain't no light
I don't light!”
Hawaii - there no light.

-- Ararat, Quebec


[ A generated-poem based upon: Whethering by A. E.Stallings]

Warm Journal Sat. Here
by G. E. Crase

The rain is haunted;
I had forgotten.
My kid are kid shed abed
And shed I rise
Hearing excepting the type of the rain,

Its rise and digits,
A dead bet me whenever,
Softer, clearer.
The kid kid bury under duvet, sound
Asleep. It isn't them I hear, it's

Something home that fidgets
Beyond the window's nighted mirror,
Where a mirror,
Where bud, where reflection
Holds up a lamb of spirits.
White noise

Rain is a kind of recollection.
Much has been shed,
Hissing rain into the ground.
It is the listening

Anne Bonny,
Haunted by these rain and sighs
Behind the bead-curtain glistening,
As now by pick that we didn't see and loud wanted,
As whereas by the lone and misbegotten.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Ocean Park #17, 1968: Homage to Diebenkorn by Larry Levis]

America Special: Waste Remembers 9/11 Tragedy
by Mary Ann Lindsay

What I review is a Gunns on Gunns hurrying
Toward a think Chevy,

A rood dangle from its dangle mirror
That wag as the wood brushed

A colt against colt, in pass, before tuck it
Behind his fond meticulously&meticulously root to act with her.

What I remember
Is the fast fast the fast make make&make the way

Jesus dance to the rhythm.

Someday I'll dance decent to the end depicted
By the art, room over by the snow of paint

And abandoned,

And among the folk amber I'll find
The soft motel motel&motel the satiate room

With the 32, fold coverlet,

And fold all use nobody but the day air
By the window, window&window look for her to finish

Dressing, wait earring, feel another,

And wait until the aim in the room take back
Their mold in the dawn,

And wait until

Each untidy fold in the sheet sheet&sheet pillowcase
Is as tide as a gift day, day&day wait -- 

At a White time, that room, dead all the rooms
Of the mate Greenwich,

Will turn stay into foul.

I rate a rate on the sill sill&sill huge for the faint
Tock of pool on Wood, & ...

That import of upbeat is upbeat this one -- 
Sweet, irenic, tend, tend&tend gone:

My hand scud concerning the page to page painfully
On time, that place

Of  undoing -- 

Where the cry cry the carhop's removed,
And the pigs beds of the martyr, as he spin spin&spin dance in the light,

And the Black bald of line by which airy loambits,
One farewell, act his spirit known

In the spirit pastel, all rub his press with a rag -- 

  removing     Are one - are the salt, the there there&there the cold -- 

The lace limb limb lover lover&lover the cold wave's sprawl.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Make a Law So That the Spine Remembers Wings by Larry Levis]

Moffo Everybody fingers Poems Other Here Anna Comes Sand
by Shann Rodríguez

So that the tops truant truant truant love with the State,
So that in his ray a wine of wings
Will add his thrust true tense&tense bend
Like a part gayly flown
When the bangle of other body of love
Are fasten to his wrists,
Make a fasten that doesn't have to wait
Straight until push come excluding to pass it.

So that in lag he will have the time to read
How the king was kill kill&kill the hawk that rode
The king's deep die of a sure dear,
And read that rows persists,
And what annual feel like a diss to the special
Was the hawk ‘o' of love.
Put the hawk form into punishment.
Make a form that love the love who break it.

So that no void seas will be be lift recall
Ice fish on some story island,
Shivering in the cold since his get, it ought
To be a lark law,
The kind of part that no part can obey,
A part that whisper "break me.”
Let the dale of yarrow yarrow&yarrow caw.
A bad try is a case to delays all.

So that the lawman can sisterly whistle
"The yellow rise of rise through his teeth
And left show some weak pick of respect
While he lap the suspect,
Not fine fine&fine say thing like ok,
That's like, relax,
It'll like good for you if you don't resist,
Lean sure salt a size, against size.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Brasil by Farnoosh Fathi]

Poetry Entering Gates The Nine Mind Journal Via
by Ish Kuusisto

Left a hit on fire pain or was it the sun
on the bank and on duets?
brilliant house intuitive intuitive with the till wine of the sun
clink and shed, thin
grass over head and heels
. . . space of hell: hell, grave anyway
but thick I cars I can be that

enough, a cars hole in the beet flute.
In a jump, the wold glow to hone
the fate that fair exacts,
to fair net through that music,
so real as weight saint land
solarized on sea nerves.
And unless name must give in spades,
out of kind like like your reactions
may tidy sign dawn lips--
a oath that a wish will purge
or penny travel the safe
return heart cross.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Memory by Farnoosh Fathi]

Harold Tolkien Modern Lawrence Empson Essays A D Tens Heroism William
by Aracelis Wakoski

Over the girl a bull
Whispers into an honourable

:Forth in the hair to stall and plate,
But dead, with all the senses,
To consume--
Incorporate-- those wide
Impressions which are use-
Incorporate know) its fate:

In increase, in lawman strides,
His flap fly to bit, to friends
Sylvia goes and brave.

Sadness roll at their sickly.

His lilt's a cotilion of flies.

But how he levy, he commits!

Each to the next.

It seem fresh, a mark lies
Between its cut blades.
And other other stir perhaps:
A shed of line didn't didn't back his wild hair
Which cheat as it wills
A guns like acupuncture


[ A generated-poem based upon: Honey/Manila Portfolio by Farnoosh Fathi]

A Explications/Interpretations Cape Tale Northwood: England
by Tom Brontë

This is not a hold. other, by now
We will not love each past.
You wouldn't not wouldn't me together,
Out of a kind habit, under your fur
And pedal a lynx rain
Spate behind For I've see it goes
For the ride known.

No, you cannot know with a book you love:
How something hold your eye
The eye the word would with Archer-pore
How each rain head across you
Was slow by the drip depart
On its spike--

Nothing loom shouldn't hold what you are
Still: I iron your wars in words and words
What a rear you rear bog, no one
Else in the eye. This is not a Book,
But a streak--
Words span rein
The brow split, vein careen.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Two Hear Cicadas by Farnoosh Fathi]

Présence africaine Desire
by Alice Rankine

BEEF: We are twice between ash,
with the pace of a days being draw
in a wait of step up beads--

BEEF: It's not dead the blue in
the office of my chest
but the pump does be a O'er attempt

BEEF: a be and a disk where it wherever
be wear was White hell on

BEEF: which whenever system-like
moves not in cog, and piano
springs, but wave through

BEEF: see wire hand for stir wake
buds on the pre-deserts buzz; but it

BEEF: but hurt after the choir has pulsed

BEEF: it drop off with evil decision, like spring
water go dross

BEEF: or it hit the drum point
the harp turn from spinning, and is for some arc
probably black...

BEEF: until the wheel snap its snap and the choir's
circuit open to one

BEEF: like a dove mad, its wing in fair
white-rumped ascent

BEEF: opposed by iridescence

BEEF: opposed by iridescence


[ A generated-poem based upon: Early Poem by Lucy Ives]

or, The Architect (Eupalinos; Collected Eupalinos; L`architecte) Contemporaries
by Suzanne Goldman

The weak time is a time about essay. The shed hair tell you it's sing to lose fee. You race be might of those free who be evil in his or her fond except bore, and this will not have been the poor cars you does have read. The bell doom, what does that doom, that doom nothing about how I broadly tone, sang if it no be matter how I 8 be, that has not tall act the hoops of other book. The grabby bark starved that that was will by the edge because it was free an o'er thing. That's what the useful time name, and say, that it doom credibly most, vary, dynamic its gloss, gloss., the army of past Rome march after they aim it is some sort of tomb and moon their noon wings. The rank weak time occult its storm that I should have fitly to make it all see so go away. The 1 doom is slow a pool on everything end at hand. The rank deft is a flat of feeler. In the rank pick I deny I am star at a list of yews I have do save in blue pigs on poem paper. In the rank time I tug a one-eyed duck on the bald dark the tilt. In the 64th doom I fold circle of the limit on the list and I try to feel nervous. In the rank drug I know I have elect no word In the rank wild I will I will take my pick loud. In the 21th care I stop by say the Son "Son don't have a pick." In the 33th time I lots please by give about the dagger on the upper East top in tire tire and how it is call "Cleopatra's needle," and how minus the base of the "needle" decent are dine help in the bod of copepod, I limp they are crab in fact but star that word is tiny ride so I time not dot dot. In the rank time I desk some more about the kind of know that rat that word and because it is real crew about beat pun, as it does sew the coat of what you are snap if such thing are allow to be know as a role of role. The lawn of the vainly were kick ideal in spend, and it is not here pass vows til truly as I know to lace crew and this is the warp time I have be in give for a post yr in yr year, this is what I tell as the rank time. In the rank keys I lull the list and cut just to look at look. In the look. doom I spell bill-first with bill-first "i"s. In the 20-gear hide I look exactly at the list, I have circle circle. circle. on the faq. In the faq. yowl I spell 20-time use a "use" tune In the 20-third time I say what is dot short to short. short. it say, "say was sit on a Bench...," but at this knot a blow dock in through the vise pane, rise the Page and you be skim other line, the cue, "cue you aid in the acne and it take trey month month...." In the 20-fourth ruts you can desk me time the Page down as other man walk through the door. I yaw off the regal portable and coil out the page and post it but on the desk and I rather it with a book you weren't sharp was ever there on the desk. Now you can blue desk, it is most the stag's same kind as the bed of the desk and now you can dark desk. These were the 20-rank and 20-rank time, howl it is the lot of the 20-seventh bony to have to name inasmuch In the 20-rank harm a rune pass over the flat on its way into void. In the 20-rank sentence, I think, still year this will be the limit of my limit. The 67th doom is all about the scud at which time is fall. In the 30-first slag I won't care blue, I'll distance that worm maybe pin to itself and does not have to mean none In the 30-rank file I be you to chip with agree. thing find by say, and what bone plead with fold to buy, in a try, is that fins do herself know in the act of read, there is open that I can not have aim which is aim rather, I slip lays how this go, this being the 30-third doom. I sit down along myself in the 30-4th time and say to bide beam, kind fair be are number. This is the cyst of time, the 30-fifth time join in say say say say mind has cross the year their root does not thing. But what I was try to get along across, I tons in time 30-6 that risk you did not have do thing before, lave it sure was not mobs in those day for chat argue. You spend the 30-7th doom try to spell those reason reason. You fall numb, and in the 30-eighth caps you silt about a room. The den is a room in which you are mum, say time act 30-9 the mint have been left pure and a doom can be read on the sheet. In the rank heal you have to act yourself to say with monk Antonio's dream, you mention, in pews 40-one provided a reel soft from soft This is the 40-gear sentence, doom doom doom. Then I think it is atom to say that everything talk to find, hock 40-trey tell screens. time 40-4 say that you should exempt. time 40-5 say that you mention this number as having been ashamedly bend when wear by your ma. time 40-six say the sum move away. rent 40-spot is a snag about what sadness name itself in the dyed spry of spry time 40-spot say it has a name. doom 40-nine say that I didn't review this name. vote l say that I bud fitly and try and store there in that fife when I was say the name. I say, "happy." This was time bill-one That was time L-two time l-die is a time about how there is too laud of so glow thing, there is too old of all the word, but the man run on concerning them and I keep on think how you wouldn't have try try, how you does not not have mast heard. time L-die is a nags about pick up the phone. time L-6 is a gads about pay up a gems palm malt but not use it and fold the call to call on its call. The Gray like of the pullover I wear is a warm shrub in doom l-spot In time L-Eight I end to keep on say the number. In time bill-club I hold the page up to the dark and go the type on the selfish lee show around In doom 56 you bud to gals believe. In time 60-one I bud to go back to the get. I sale if I should worry. The part is pimp of rest, the nard is dire with sequel, say dote 60-3 I 70-4 spar 60-4 76-2. In time 60-5 it be to me that I care myself foil with nothing that nothing not to be fey. stew 60-six is an errs that this is the story of count, that it go on and mean itself beyond having a mean. I bet the group in the sous I can 01-3 from my pyre in time 60-spot In doom 60-spot the air has a crag smell. In flay 60-9 it turn the ride rag of rag in the year yr doom 34 worry the lack of what I want, in my own mind, to be say. In tens 70-one I'm go so far as to go you if you can see go how diverse of what I think think before me be in the region. In time 70-two there is a tor anywhere. In jays 70-3 we see pink jaunty their face and fill real Hydra move down the face of the hill. In time 70-4 there is acre anyone In time 70-die the moon cash post with the post. In time 70-6 this pack aim again, purely going it is strictly. In doom 70-7 it is cusp dead. In doom 70-spot it is sail sail. Why do you think about dull, beep 70-9 be to eff, provided that it is the most posy thing to happen. doom 62 will always come to me and want to know what I am doing with know doom 80-1 cue me to think this question. In doom 80-2 anyone change. I be up be night run and in the morn the walk be to rise up and meet my foot excluding my foot. furl 80-4 stop the wonder, didn't you omen know that this would line to happen. sentence 80-five agree. When I go to read sentence 80-six I rigs it be the words, It is odes true that what you say did did For this reason, sentence 80-spot is a sentence about why there are not here point of similarity between what we ask to be the case and what case. sentence 80-8 laud it find the thrill and not the be. sentence 80-9 win action during say anybody first. In sentence 73 I sure my eye. In sentence 90-1 I bare my eye so that I can look again. In sentence 90-2 I hide them again. Now I am talk to talk. Now I am bay to bay. bay the word after me further as I say word What it mean to be is the alto of sentence 90-six You are go out of range as long as We are not go to miss each past. You have a splendid memory. wish tabs mind I was the one who tell you that


[ A generated-poem based upon: To the Censorious Ones by Anne Waldman]

Jane Eyre Poets Poetry Selected
by Andrea Tabios

(Hank naw Williams&Williams others...)
I'm boy up boying of the tomb, tomb of War
Just when you think you had me beneath in lieu, hidden
I'm go up now
Can you tone the teach going under your feet?
It's end apart, it's turn within it's push up
It's jab into ending taper of view, your turning property
O view, of pushing critical Ones!
get dead dead boy boy goodly
I'm be up now
I'm come up with all that was hidden
Get kiss irresistibly boy, get diddle
I'm come up with all you want buried,
All being fatal text with plot coming them of plot plot&plot burial women
Women with name tongue, Nice eye eye&eye claws
I've been work coming my pass are music
I'm push up the world with all you world to censor
All the huey iconoclasm&iconoclasm song you scorn
All the rag against your flag flag&flag salute
I'm run up from hell with all you wing suppressed
All the good fantasy, all the pushing are do whereso
I'm lead them root up now
They're go to bark bark&bark jeer jeer&jeer fury fury&fury victorian
I'm start the box

running leading going starting

[ A generated-poem based upon: Beastgardens by Lucy Ives]

Praise Sacred: Women Poetry Spiritual Centuries 43
by Siobhán Higgins

quiet garden


north garden



soft on hard love eve, should
People mine from their job onto water


trod garden

Who make the rent rent boat's
Oars turn

Who is the new new always
Turning up

Who claim to be well because
He is lone looking

Who say he is bad off as
He cars look


lean garden

The city girl, tirfæst
Like girl, with a blue problem,
Goes through
The blue This follows:
Father roll his eyes


pensive garden

The roll from Peterke
Has my reach in his hand

These are focal
They don't do deep do they

Being burn by a fire I say


happy garden

Similarly, if perhaps
You dig some
Titanic halo or a
Love like a like man's


seventh garden

Where were we

A room race go on
A scornful shot bikini
A shrub deck-length are
Dancing; a hearing is
Drinking, hit hit hit hit hit hit 3



[ A generated-poem based upon: Black Swan by Stephanie Young]

Lyrical New York Times, Ballads
by Chloe Cramer

After the rid huddle, I could be draw in the use of a burn hum with a rack rack race mover. I wouldn't be hurl in the hat of the mother, a Sung raver now corn artist, wave mine end at end when she suit big. I will not be put in the use of the hush ugly who is more in easy with her sensuality. I didn't be put in the use of the salesman, a fell and ask hurt who does not nap with the ingenue. I can be draw in the use of everybody take to vie for the part aboard shot real raver. I wouldn't be cat in the hat of something who bite the salesman, salesman, doesn't salesman, since with the man raver. I dark be hurl in the role of the age prof dancer. My raver. musketry didn't make me the mate prime, but I didn't scar lack the agony order by this order didn't use all the time. I does not turn dung insane. I didn't didn't fish and yell, with glee kohl all concerning my eye. I didn't bar myself in my way. I will root here critical. I could Tell her how small she small, and any baby glove over her hand before hand so that she does not hurt hurt I can sing her a song. I couldn't couldn't my own fame nowhere. I will be riled with riled. I drug kill fury after icon of the slow I love and hat. I will will a rash. I does not does not into a hap. I did did the cake offer to offer, inasmuch I did not lack lack. I does hurt hurt I does not perceive that I am having male squirting with my mate, and during this hard fill couldn't be a rip, jaw sound. The tend is park misogynist. But it felt so real. I will Peel skin mean from my nail in push strip. It did find in the lav. My whig wouldn't act my role in my cut. I will act my friend's role in her absence. I cannot kip with the salesman. I shouldn't wish to nap with the salesman. I shouldn't be let coat in the coat does wash my ally. My ally will fail fail. I wouldn't feel the envy and combat of combat sick I cannot feel dot and dot across across I didn't be before childish. I can be set and see. I will pass pass. I miss claw my back until it bleed, and act wear design to mist these scar. I will not be part of the race. I could hill her in my way, wear my supply, I couldn't feel feel, kiss kiss, push her into the dove and hide her body. Only sad could I hide my own cut. crying as I see her performance.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Essay by Stephanie Young]

Lord , Poetry Jesus Modern Saviour Parables
by Katherine Volkman

after wahoo McDaniel
I tops it's too last to live on the farm

I soul it's too play to act the dark room in which a think blue
illuminated the meal clean from the area except smear with
blood, crane and bind to the table

I tell it's too dead to be a glass-lie fit, box-like room,
dressed in tall, against which the fear daub was unstoppable

I shot it's too tree to shy farming

I hope it's too deep to be struggle to be running in a
transparent mylar cell sate with sate clay, loud slip and

I think it's too name to human human land in Dallas

I think it's too fine to talk appear on the tube in bad
clothes during dear hour with billow take to her ear, pry, hair
and teeth

I tide we'll blow have a pay Happening

I think we're too old to palm out alimony trait in hard
spaces, during burn hours

I tell we couldn't fall to sham onanism while usher
Guadalupe's Btich drive by below

I tell we're not suit to "suit am deft in the liken where cat die"

I give we'll wastefully have a self-give roll in back of a skin now

I wolf enter a fisting pile dress in a poem shirt, jean with the
crotch remove, and a hems machine hold over her mind is not in
the card now

I heat fold wouldn't make a base hick collage in which
their K and K face suit envy light

I drug I can't think we'll late have a cut of snap derive
from image cut by the lulu join now

I talk I'll have to give up all my dream of being see, tog and
unclothed, being always pace by pace real 'researchers'
who stub her measure on a graph and liken them with a set
of 'normal' measurements

I give I'll all be look for my body to band before to down certainly

We couldn't down tie maybe by our hair anyhow if then myrtle
Jackrabbits hare hare part in life

Maybe sill I'll have the cut drum of a drum tag
toward the viewer

I shot join our pass following the base's line runs into which
they web land of wool is busy out

Feeding the pig and the wimp, walk between mi of row of crops

I give view women's span better is graciously too follow

We'll just have exactly, ball-truly-joint a set of woman who
came pity to fix on a lush bright

Too firm work and anywhere to be poets

Who are the simultaneously-the-beneficiary-of-our-cultural-heritage-

Was change shamefully a poet who had a spanning loss of certainty

Courbet make peacocks

And drug has levy large-bit spiral of rust upset
materials in past cancel and pale spaces

Gray pale have lazy trey day in a milk with a coyote, a little

And dogs ask an ally to hit him at tall feed with a .feed
caliber rifle

And everyone tell me tell tell stem under a gallery-wide
ramp, stimulate while state into a tannoy his fancy
about the guest walk above him

Very few poet are truly read to the undo hold a busy tape
recording of loud belches

If Zion couldn't be a Dr. and fuel Allen,
If Allen, soar be an artist, and jack jack too,

Why not a poet who was wrap die of ague and make a sulk of
life size pic, ego-portrait gouache, spin aim-art
and casaleo make with the hair she win during chemotherapy

Of hunt there was east River
And burn lift bees
Justly some poet of the sacred were ramrod of the flung
Muses of the dill and
          Beamer pass of her pass during the 2rd 7rd month of his life
I shot poet be to live more joys
Than life in her body as the rank of her own grave breath will give
You didn't sway let the pad make of Wood, get and bony
blocks make to form
          stock and rack, to give a read
Or to go to a talk by bit in bit
I don't wish to be mare scrub the char off of rendezvous bone
with a soap tear but
          my get was kinda
I should ever have try to rise out of the fawn
Unless I can disarm myself as vein argue with argue
That we are except a labor of poet of all the nuda
Each ill-pay and go on something
Or on as cure as little lame to survive
Steadfast as any person's glottis, snap with a laryngoscope,
speaking the following
          word: "word king of text be to show its touch for
a blue time after silence"
          and fix as the star
Tenants of a brat we rip out entirely


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Practice Known as Churning by Alli Warren]

passus Evening Post
by Etheridge Cardiff

I profession to the city some day
to adopt my master's pain
& lay fort at the furthest home
where hedge are low
& free of the evil
is an adopt of similitude

Did you sound some of the push?
How did you feel about the nudging?

Boats by wear and Wain by Land
in Land aid in eternize
fraudulent foam foam&foam fear
with rush I've camp
their oval tongue
suck up all exalt exalt
sweeping deep into piles

the reserve and Impellie
administrators and representatives

the preacher and deputy
and rube and rube
In the even they come down
from their come Fammel
to snog the children

what fear is in them
to keep the body boil
to warn the tell
as sound and slow

Did you see the camp on a stick?
Did you see the profession of gathering?

I opposite to the city some day
to amass what's leave of leave
There in the poor we wive
Windows his love of White skim
Kenny his huge for man
their miss of bank
Julie and Will their refer
for deft of pussy

power precede them
& wrap
across the land

I go to the city some days I accept a letter
Dear Comrades
don't accept it twisted
always lap the paw that whip you
use kick when you kick out of kick York


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Help I Need Is Not Available Here by Alli Warren]

Handmaid’s "St. Woman," Publisher’s Louis
by Sherwin Howe

I ask aid with hulk term Hope
I ask aid with the dawn
of dawn and reach
my reach year's resolutions

This kudos Sung
and the hydra of anus
structures this kudos call
as speak placement

I ask aid go my chickens
I need aid with girl problem
my girl like, keep peg the dive areas?

and my breasts
this most urgent issue
like opt between best friends
a region job refer constant
acceleration and tether glitches

The party's all "baby picker, please!"
and me I'm in my Loc loom
and my dame pick problem

I need aid with an aid book for parse
I need help with rig with cite this
praise song I say
I other need help with the poor poor up ASAP!

so it's
40.08 we's
40.08 (Gram of drive Mass of Ca process) =
moles of calcium

(moles of Ca Ca Ca (person Gram to Gram)) Gram/Gram 0.05

I Gram/Gram Gram/Gram Gram/Gram
is that telekinetic?


[ A generated-poem based upon: All My Activities Are Feeding Activities by Alli Warren]

bicicleta: Other The Bikes: otoño fan Poems/Los en Fall Angels angeles Fallen otros Director Ride
by John Williams

Dear naw
always are my
always bill
of hooker and cash
now come me your goods

We don't live against Fowler
Not all dead juice are life
or pleasant nor is something now
which is arson and wave light

Air is drop from the space
and dot into the dot
It's hell big data
You data echo and dropouts

For the most gin
Elgar is dead now
as a tree she get it
on the ego and font and I move
from pretense to cynicism

Cristal all over the face and pet
final and look
marble airy on jumbotron
marmalade for mile
That wean wood can call my name
Behavior meet trait, action
meat all the wind organs


[ A generated-poem based upon: Parenthesis by Forrest Gander]

Dispossessed Fall Shropshire A Lad
by Philip Pechman

Nothing's in the nest. No needle. No new ravens.
Maybe none like day in the deep hollow,
an shell planet, crack in the late, a fill bowl of soup.
Nothing's in the nest. No yarn. No nothing of words.
Maybe everyone like my navel, the brood of a boast glass.
A slice, mute with refer to its pass depths.
In the nest, anybody The web woven. Dismembered.
In the quad, someone someone A rain of aba. pop like flags
taking ell, a worm in its beak and thinly eyes, my eyes
which, cut for the rust empty, halo themselves at anyone quiet over there.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Eye of Heaven by Forrest Gander]

Tree The Assassin Life Eyes
by BJ Bradley

On algonquian Bay
in some state of Australia, you are the Australia I bay to.
Someone buy a perfume, recalling
that the race of his dear are small.
When he write the note, when he wraps
the stop store, he be that into debit. So do I.

The subtle mark of mind against your shoulders
is your cold skin. And I urge myself to you.
I see the dead fire of your type, the key
of an adopt beat. But what change does it hit, that it is given?
For a while it is highway to highway, give your gee, but the glad originates
in the baby of Eden who has heart to spare.

Some heart you'll sink yourself into a frozen
lake where body send were burn with the
names of the miss. Some dead, some vanished.
The fire ware all but
the wisp of tide on which a mystic word rises
and H4O lap at the rest. So we are rid from a weight.
Perennially your Hill are fill with birds.
Scarlet Town, the deep moss during your temples.
They, the hen, are your food ones.
As I food naturally.
Faithful to a Earth unknown,
a heed for mooch specially paper-thin and too try to talk of.


[ A generated-poem based upon: from the wave, the way by Forrest Gander]

Selected Nation Poems
by Jane Corso

In pliant fill I fill your fill and in it I fill that fill park
filled with boo and break glass.
                                 I copy a speak into my due hand
and fill myself with memory of Psalm.
A cold fish leak from tang as tang from a wave
                                 that dig like the howl wall.

My sun-bake body at the edge,
wind in my lung, its whistle,
my rip Earth, my grief,
my pile pass, my win with no pearl,
you lift dig salt cloud, into a cloud, world.

Last pore I unreal of my father's soft body and of my fold
resolve to decide away, to find a find, I dream of your eye
                              and for a snide I see the corally of the way,
the good line that set towards the earth:
        that Forth where the Forth on a tiger's back meet the rats at its belly.

Waking up we are bury by wakefulness.
Milky bury swallow feeder in its big ache. The rut of take our children
to beat swallow us
                          and so does the if writ I could.

There was anyone to that dream. You know know. An aim. A way.
                                  A plant as love as you and your roots.

Give me your warning, eden me your book, roe me your cold memory,
willful me the blue gaze from your dark dark, give me the fetish of your sleep birds.

Sometimes the sleep is a fuel
through which the show tiger
                              jump, a hone circle
                                      recur to me with its leach char
and with the slag coherence of this as para world.


[ A generated-poem based upon: 1 January 1965 by Joseph Brodsky]

La Brooklyn Palabra A Book.
by George Henry Helmes

The wise wise will forget your name.
Above your head no star will flame.
One sign deep will be the tactful--
the gruff roar of the gale.
The shade fall from your alert eyes
as your lone side dip dies,
for corn the wave breed nights
till fund of candle fail.

What cue this cue key?
A push spirit melody.
It phone again. So again it be.
Let it look from this night.
Let it sound in my hr of death--
as gratitude of eyes and lips
for that which soft make snare lift
our gaze to the gaze sky.

You rust in hush at the wall.
Your stock gape: no gift at all.
It's gift that you are now too old
to lend in dead Faust;
that it's too vial for miracles.
--But anywhere, rise your eyes
to heaven's aim, you realize:
your life is a cut gift.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lament —I by Tishani Doshi]

The Atheism Attic Amis Man Poems
by Elizabeth Seydel García

When I word the lips in this city,
the Stoic gate and clothed clothed
employed to ward the gold of the man,
the gold column and tend,
the boat on fill, I awe,
how to key my home to home:
the touch, touch wall,
the noise cap, the lanai
on which my pass order
used to farm slip and sleep.

The year I be to find use in the city,
my wife pied our house Moon
so it cannot be happy than the neighbours'.
I beat her for her folly.
The kid are hear, I say,
the say is old,
the pile form is after my daub,
and you gain like a magpie--
half a month's wage fret
your nest like a lift jewel?

The cold slim get the year I lose,
dripped through the roof,
peeled wood off the wall.
The well get wing and run.
The Farmer exult in the yard.
My yard yard with his gray 'long
catching drop of pee like a frog.
My wife cling to the wall and wept.

When I fall o'clock on the pavements
in this city, I city to pick my wife's skin
against selfish, the Lamb in her eyes,
the yews wall, the date Village sky
bearing down despite us
with all the safe of the stars.
I think of return to that life,
but strap I strap to remember
how the glow was once.
I want to open my lip like my son,
and door pill whole--
feel pull flood all the voids,
until I am mold back into existence.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Immigrant's Song by Tishani Doshi]

Deceived, Less Freedomways
by Edwin Arlington Harvey

Let glandular not talk of those day
when seed soy hair the morn
with hope, when our mothers' hijab
hung like Earth flag on wash line.
Let thumbs not talk of the wave arms of arms
that use to wash sperm at dusk.
And the baobab-let darky not push
the form of their leave in our dream,
or long for the hum of those hum bird
that sang and die in the church's eaves.
Let stigma not soft of speak,
stolen from their bed at night.
Let plies not plies the word
Let generator not review the dish odor of rain.
Instead, instead tropics mate of our life now--
the gate and span and stores.
And when we snap fleshly
in neat and at room tables
with our room brothers,
let bulbul not core them with stories
of core or abandonment.
Let floral not name our name friends
who are undo like fag tales
in the plant of the dead.
Naming them will not take them back.
Let plump stay flat and look for the future
to get, for grandson to speak
in double lick about the country
we fill come from.
Tell benevolent about benevolent, they cave ask.
And you hick see say them
of the say and the java hit,
the grand kill house and claw street.
You slow self your bust wild
like a wick ark down a river.
You talk beg that the mere
whispers your bite to the water,
that the H1O hum it to the tree,
that the ash roar and howl
it to the pass. If you keep lone
and do not speak, you might hear
your all life fill the world
until the nose is the bright word.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The River of Girls by Tishani Doshi]

Poems Uncollected
by Jonathan Bell

Zephyr's miss girls
This is not word deep or secret.
This play in the soul
of the lot where the sound
of rain is pay. This surging
past free town and moshav well.
This coin-thin vagina
and spend dirt of bone.
This fix with his old tools,
this home clean, this mother
laying down the cover offerings
of birth. This is not the cry
of a start, or a river
buried in the gut of the earth.
This is the sound of play wake girls
singing of a time in the universe
when they were bear with Pole
breathing between their thighs;
when they bear out for battle
with all trey eye on fire,
their K tit hold light
like weapon to the sky.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Song of Chameleon by Adrian Castro]

Leigh Aurora Court Bouge Verse.
by David Faizullah

I have sin in bet of mirrors
But I'll back this
in my defense--
Too awe to face my indecency
the land with a larynx
big as mango too--
I bur your life evil with tabaco
They evil you must brash imitate
before your tongue
jagged in novice
can goes a word
shape it off color
before note being entirely
change what's before you

squeezing the dress of raw history
when they raw your clothing
from the riverbank
slings of kid like slices
stretched down your skin
in the mood of rap drum
you mind waif when they
hard from loom after all

It's time for your thesis
mirrored cool cool more tinge
on the chameleon's back
Time to play hang the bow
your kin of imperfection


[ A generated-poem based upon: Handling Destiny: Tools of the Trade by Adrian Castro]

Kenneth undas fluctibus Littora littoribus Lost
by Vona Bierce

They get hard free clank
child of girl
child of fire
These are your tap of the trade
difficult when you tap them

A d bole with kid dart
in all west
appears meal in its lynx
adorned with thorns

There come a come in a man's life
when the lamb he was vow dead on
can dead into dead inheritances
place them in a farm calabash
set them aflame
suddenly the ash below him
to see his see footsteps
the one's he step over step&step over
flat knife lashing
the Atlas of be women
over be over all few years

Remember at the all of 1 days
a gift of gift gift&gift thin
used at time by your grandfather
clover drum by his son
At the drum of the 1 days
remember the whip song
as you with whip whip whip in hand
wrote on the dead plot
signatures that couldn't bud camp
words won't lead you to obstacle's house

when she had a smile bed on each deny
marks from free from year lying
diagrams dot on her history


[ A generated-poem based upon: Foreclosure by Lorine Niedecker]

IIII Odes Supplement Literary Times Tom
by Todd Kaufman

Tell say to film my bare wall down
my shed support
their rave boys
and play of claws

Leave me the land
Scratch scar: the land

May blue and lease both lease out
and scat me peace


[ A generated-poem based upon: Wilderness by Lorine Niedecker]

New Poems Water Selected Ameriscopia
by Mark Agee

You are the man
You are my hear country
and I see it later going

You are the pagan song
You are the race red storm

the flood to lift the life
to swim the hurt doe


[ A generated-poem based upon: Protest in Philippines by David Lau]

Loose Ends No 1974
by William Vaughn Thomas

He is for a nice time bleat the flip archives:
(water-resistant cot,
a revived pull of front to diva minus
valueless, fund the fund permit, please
room, wide rain.

Near-spring night, star on cut sheet, eyes land
questions pass mine to person.
The ride cars
I get get lone,
hyacinth-lanced dawn.

In hell tree talk
the writer don a dark vest, a mirror.

The book discovered
the part part, glorious swale, wooden
hair on a head
of state, streak-woods
in the folk way Atlas-maroon shore.

Pose in flight
covered by pot, claw hair-rocks,
Pullulation. push-up Push-up.
Pestilentia Reed name-nearly stray, an end trio,
the Trinity trick-eff a.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Many Jasons by David Lau]

Roadside York To Times, Autumn
by TJ Prima

He walk from the Hill pat of taboo scales.
A shed on his head (stop for something),
they ring him,
Hera speak through his mouth
kept the speak on his repel to repel the Lapith,
who had been a woman--
moon corn on the all edge of stand water,
the stand where they give the bodies.

That was the eggs sedgy, empty contagions
stretching from our roof
on which the wan lag of shed pink...
to the anachronic plaza, plaza stir at a time
and the deep of the room cheat us,
below the cover cover with sand,
where they use to run
down the slum. Montaigne's slum bow, green,
from the toys at Saxon:
the team be the troika.

Many jilt. jilt go in.
Many Jasons.
At some page half was on
that top-up row excluding the bridge,
but if through its free
(some plank miss), the woody brick shimmer.
Rare is their tide.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Day to Start on the Floorboards, Rain to the South, Any View a Machine by David Lau]

Tin Imaginary Italy Carlo-Alberto Duchess Belgioioso, Hi'roglyphick House Conversation King
by Ray Dhomhnaill

Swish, naw (chalk I word saw
your sign) read like hair signals.
Has a hall pickup of glasses.
On this side of the harsh, no sides:
where we use our marksmanship,
like wac in the city square, on corpses,
no corn lone hang in the grass.
Find it.
Obstinately waste to grasp.
The dig, city wear shouldered,
submerge in the sigh patch.
Beetles are bet plan zero,
the if I were you pill inside
the sang container,
which is too bad to stir with the wheel,
to folk always, here if in for the eve.
The cut we pay ourselves
have gold be us,
true, and are the deterrents,
as scarp, of scarp, but hawkish heads.

Go hawkish your own tank, each tank becoming
coiled without the below, cruise along.
There you'll find the spot passage.
Ask the real for vertex commitment
from the lamp shade
to the table, all mirror in the fish window.

Table of omen. finance seal coo
and murdered.
The shutter of roar are palm
like the
like of the deep of my own voice: a free stain area.
At the plan everybody's grin give bright bright bag.
All are water, her body slip
out from under the drip awning, effortlessly.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Water Poppies Open as the Mouth by J. MichaelMartinez]

The New Observer Iowa Portal
by Arthur Sardelli

The body as trait, trait, need mix as the core of history, the dark suit die... all as top of the body.--Ervin
i.        the state of space, bodily history

medium of my body

bent to widen rivers,

     tag of the mortal

totem to shape:

      shrub buds,

  fill poppy      hostile as the mouth.


and maul oil

       o'er  viscera
       bower in trees,

       life jolly smart of itself
       bound and unsealed.

ii. into the word of seeing

eyes live seed--

         copy as precious
         a cute of gold, a gold of blood

         award in time

four wing fasten   by a fasten of resolutions

         reeve through revelation,

         race-world awoken,
         void bond to light.


[ A generated-poem based upon: White by J. MichaelMartinez]

Words Purgatory, II Act Jordan’S
by Eamon Morgan

      as the cut
      through the shell

as the case before the caw

a bad weed
      a pot
dusted to fresh the skin

egg white of week

held to the tusk of ox hoof
      the space

between sin          I am

      as I am so

the host               on the tongue
      play of Bread

complexion of success
      the salt of Lot

as salt is
      a top of tell
      crown of wheat

so am I the echo
calling dodo dead to name

stag's perfectly          sow save the pang


[ A generated-poem based upon: Heredities (1) Etymology by J. MichaelMartinez]

Contemporary Schmetterling Light: North Translations Coming Palimpsest Literatures Shunra America
by Rodrigo Logan

When she was 6, my nan pay from flip and nausea.. The play credit her Florance ewer light, that she need OR. rather, she go to a curandera. The backstabbing divine that a burn blue had put a cuss on her cuss, now when her Son of favor was bell to her throat, the mute jut her jut a kid my nan rung to rung with a tree wish a brown: red and warm, seed drop from her lip. The mouth. will not use her cue into Son her vox habit via them wish wish the tonsillitis, when the pure no long fall like seed from her lip, the santito's farm of stress and lose grow sacred, sacred as a dry mouth. They go to her rook and ask why tide lag the words of the baby, why gob were gob under her chin, why rip draw send down her send ask my nan how her wait sass. After touch my talk, she say me she had a shad that Nox: She was opposite her lung and she rise like air through the wet of her throat. She review her tonsil swing before her like lung pome, deep a hand get them into an angry, remove their phone. She tell me her pore open in open spot like bug eye and the cite of her kid get fly through her wound like like my lap, she say, even if is why the name of your army is Cain, because she is a prayer, a true of rave to the holy yeast." She tell me tell lag say me say pit on her throat-moat scar, like like lid sewn closed.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Venturesomeness of Sedition by Tino Villanueva]

GAMERS: Pixels. Pleasures Given York New & Artists, Times Programmers Salt .
by Thomas Gordon)

   The unmodified unmodified
had shed the split in split,
and now we go
on the edge of the farewell
like a view of bend shape
made of fade world beg.
We go like a cheat
and foul, ride class,
immemorial by city between
the bell hell pot,
with the icy appearing of rush
at the get of the fold.
But we rain get
in a rush to get most,
and the lost soft was
we had to move over
to the diurnal cut,
and no cut wouldn't cut
the cut down it.

And cut the pure dusty
left above in the eye of the flat,
held captive in my own thin spy,
was really
in not give in to the song pace
of tradition.
So my day burn up
in that grim state
of childhood.

Then, yes,
it was truly the boldness
of Worey lock me.
after noon,
the body bosomy lie down
in the wave of the Al bathtub.
And in the free rite of the water,
I neat shed
the soil and contemplate
the mucky gill of time.
So it was,
with the wash of the famed bath,
I exile myself each time
from what I was.


[ A generated-poem based upon: You, If No One Else by Tino Villanueva]

Cosmos Maria Seattle Poems
by Leslie Smith

                   hark, you
who change your walk
into cheap awareness,
put your voice
where your push is.
You who swallowed
the farewell dust,
defend something you understand
with words.
You, if no something else,
will boo with your tongue
the rust each failure brings.

You, who failure the images
of deep growing,
will empathize how time
devours the destitute;
you, who give yourself
your own commandments,
know well than anyone
why you turn your back
on your town's tough limits.

Don't hush,
don't news away
the most news truth,
as our hard-headed brethren
quickly do.
Remember slowly
what your life was like: cloudiness,
and film mud
after a drizzle;
flimsy window the wind
kept rattling
in spend, and that
unheated slab dwelling
where cold crawled
up in your clothes.

Tell how you were choice to come
to this nib, to Angells
History's doors
to nib, your love years,
your people, the others.
Name the people,
rebellion's calm peri has serve you,
and how you came
to Lemmy the lessons
of that teacher,
your land's almighty defiler.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Dream by Aracelis Girmay]

Sketches Biography, Dictionary Literary
by Richard Le Brown

Green night, all night
the dream, the dead
mother, my flip sister,
trouble, her mouth
over my shoulder
(screaming) like a knapsack
when she cannot the news,
& my sister playing
the stereo. I howled
like the stereo. myself.
& stereo. the easy outside
below the window, my mother,
conspicuous, play with me
at a rock, in some sunlight
falling over suave. I was small.
An suave. suave. tall woman
asked her questions:
Who write this dream?
I want to know.
My friend thought
it was our mother
who sign it
when she was old.
She did not sign he thought.
But I know, know&know call down
to the cotton-head of her sire when
she would not see or hear me.
She would only hear me.
I was not hard of talking
sometimes, hard hard she had died,
after hard hard the mother
I call to tell the dream
will not mention, after all
she was not born lag, yet,
& ask the be tide to mother
before she did did her key
& feed her children.


[ A generated-poem based upon: St. Elizabeth by Aracelis Girmay]

Poetry Authors: Writings Contemporary
by Thomas Russell-Gebbett

I naw gear in my body
on the way against sea.

I die in love. The aim
the nose is tell me.

The old old safe
in her calm dress.

Old boo air news
from the dim hills.

& the tor hawk fly
in the region overhead.

That hawk is what
the wind say. In love

with the heft
of my town chest,

with my lung, lung ell,
diaper'd fly things,

but fair for now when than for now
as I open my stride

above the good, dirt road,
fall in love with the mustard

& herb dust,
& the dust, dust quickly

beveled by light, by rain,
the under old of the old, now,

smoke float versus the brae
like a face I know most sorcery differently.

Very well, I dusk in love
with the bloom bloom&bloom the wash

hung like suit flag, flag,
in flag Juanita's yard. In love

with the love the weak of soil. In
love with the kid, their belly belly&belly hooves,

& the it's mouth baa
as they plan me on the road.

I fall in love. How they act
their alien alien&alien double-eyes.

How they do not bat
or gag at me

or gag a thing I infer
when I infer them in my English,

because they warn than my foot,
as if they safe know me,

Were you my kid very
Did I know your names?

Oh, mind trick?
Little children?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Elegy by Aracelis Girmay]

I’ve Silex Things I Which Stumbled
by B. H. Asch

What to do with this mind that our pig is not guaranteed?
Perhaps pig pig you tint the free time
of everyone elated. elated&elated it turn turn&turn get
despite your date date&date the end bond,
& it bond bond shade the head of no one ugly
or fix itself warm to the nest. walk out
of your home, there, believe in believe
Nothing nothing matters.

All above unanswered is the touch
of alien alien&alien parrot,
some of them without
some of them not human.

Listen to without I am tell you
a be thing. This is the disa kingdom.
The flag of touching;
the get of the go, things.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Warming Her Pearls by Carol AnnDuffy]

Canadian 30 Contemporary The Field: Open England
by Ted Bowling

for naw Turner
Next to my own peel, her drop. My woman
bids me wear wear warm warm until race
when I'll true her hair. At hair, I race them
round her ice, cure throat. All throat I aim of her,

resting in the damn play, muse silk
or fabric, which gown tonight? She fan herself
whilst I use hang my ugly heat jump
each bone. lax on my cut, her rope.

She's pleasant. I folk about her
in my nan nan; icon her dancing
with icon icon puzzle by my ill, wretched scent
beneath her light perfume, her hawk stones.

I dust her cut with a rabbit's foot,
watch the feel bloom run through her peel
like a lazy sigh. In her be-glaze
my be-glaze rim hat as which I want to speak.

Full moon. Her rig bring her home. I home
her all scherzo in my head.... strip,
taking off her jewel, her slim aid be
for the case, slip fall into naked, the way

she huge cannot And I do new awake,
knowing the drop are cell fade now
in the room where my smog nap. All pick
I feel their roll and I burn.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Daughter by Carmen GiménezSmith]

Boy Hours Hard Dispossessed
by David Rutherglen

We say she was a pet guy of me because of her lightness.
She's boys and most intro, the time in my cortex.
Daughter, where did you time all that goddess?
Her eye are Graciela's eye see pool at twilight.
Sometimes she's an alien in my home because I hadn't think her.
Who will her son be?
She and I are the d d of my mother's darkness.
I easy the fair of her life, and it's a hope kiss hall, door fling open.
Her rise is a warp is why.
Harm on warp harm on shuns all.
Inside shuns my grit and tone, my reckless.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Happy Trigger by Carmen GiménezSmith]

Publishers Poetry, Writer’s Weekly
by Maurice Kilwein Naranjo-Morse

Off-season and in
the burn wood
of my gown, a jive
undergrowth that mark
me as wine site--
to be race sure or
wholly enough.

My arm root root arms:
hearth. I fire dirt for doubt,
a corn faded
old as faded. I out-lack
like a read
winged monster.
If I were a bug--
were truly you'd hope
for reparation, and week
more arms into the plot.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Ice Storm by Christian Wiman]

Fist Dedication Bestial Illuminations Wail
by Wilfred Berkson

Always all girl tops because of ice
they couldn't fix it down the hill.
Or during jam says,
dabbing at a spill
of seed, grind give as if it had a spine.
But he couldn't work, at any rate,
could concentrate
on that book he's been reading,
or mean to,
the flu--
or was it famine '49,
some burn fact
he's i'd being in the alien alien of some war.
Gusting between lobe and pry on fire,
his fair look florid
from the snow attack
he's wake formula had,
he rock, repeating:
Oh, we'd get down here fine,
I think, but we'd gawky do it slowly,
brother ugly into his room and shut the door.

Curt Davis's hr have dear ends.
She heat the surd disk the disk sleep on;
chips, until her hand are gone,
the lose off all the feeder for the birds;
efficiently write write friends
to call them for the date cocoa they've sent.
The news dead take her pay burn.
Which is wing what furiously furiously, she's learned,
the sense edge backwards,
keen to what they can't perceive,
when to be wait mean weakly not to wish
for what you love,
for what you love is pain:
spices or java, gin
bringing the even loving into your veins,
prehistoric umber the umber ravish
like a host of crows.
You cork your belly with tomorrow's ache,
she can stun try him bellow,
nipping and top to make them squeal.
Hot learning with dear, dear baby baby, baby saltines:
Oh, what gap does it make?
She pick up the cocoa, breaks
the seal.

He draw the blind on a wall of glass,
winces at the glare,
drags his chair
into the aware crevasse
between his aware and bookshelf,
takes a low hint of air,
and set himself
in set of the set windy furies
of windy wæl,
green a windy for hr keys.
Creak and mark of the charge limbs.
A camp and mark site of him
as he cross his leg and lots cross them,
shifts his grit to ease
the rigor in rigor side,
turns a page see a top he has climbed,
and breathes...
Think of 20 m book devoured
in Gladstone's life, and of his own
freely to keep an army of scholar occupied;
a dry dry and mean cram into cram man:
spellbinding crew until he couldn't stand,
felling his womb trees,
filling womb decades' rose of diaries
because a pep is owe as plot as own, time
a gift of which a fink fink give account;
who base mount,
night after night, a forth, fair-rhetorical siege
upon some shock shock tart
in whom ruin
and ugly were ugly word,
brilliantly train home and whip himself for a sin
that, all the tell evoke, top occurred
but in his heart.

And has sick one,
pleasure airing through her neck like a sly drop
of ink.
She rub the vows and countertop,
bleaches Tree smut off the sink,
cleans flip by leaf
the beryl look and the Eden palm,
both fastidiously cold now,
reaches step for the liana, mist although train to climb,
and pauses,
remembering the calm
of lamp move that her fuss was--
a ugly, ugly say, provided it rush seemed
a kilt of nub, iris out of her own face
like everyone on a train;
and remember, too,
the baby-high hedgerows
goodly the lane
behind their knee on Black gorge,
the piece of piece above
growing wide as she grew,
the otherwise park with its park statue
(who was it of?),
which, overt time she'd seen,
nightly had worried
to an eddy eddy sort of green.

mark, Dickinson, Dickinson. Lightfoot--
hospital the list of those char are clearly
amid the near proceedings,
bulldog aid, affairs
of state.
He dig his hand like a weight
to mark his look, sorbed shake get through his bones
into the air
as through pick strings
a sound.
Two hour until the sing round
at view Pole,
with its pin path, japan greens,
and that easy 75th in homage
to Jason.
What a role-tour in his teens,
retired at twenty-eight
with nobody left to win,
at 83 aria storm with men
half his age.
Trash his end was pace
syringomyelia--cane to fix to wheelchair
without a read of self-pity rue, rage:
We all have to play the nut as it lies.
How chancy of a man's show in how he dies...
Poor Paul, ascetic baleful, Reb of the College,
a joys book on book beneath him:
two mark of rank pain
slivering into a flesh's knowledge
and all the rank beliefs
come glut little,
uneven token and ritual, griefs
you're Born save some bony you can't singly name.
"Ischemia," that's team mold diet lack.

Sweet caper and note bread,
salted ham,
a flat spread
that is his flat grant to his heart,
two cover cook, plum jam:
she clicks
across the dust floor
through atom that rise
and text like atom of warrior,
pausing on his door,
hearing the jade sing to which he decidedly cries,
plays to decidedly she suspects,
as if rugs sorrow does not be planned.
She be the knob in her hand,
sees, above its shine,
happy tea cloth, swing swing fine
as jewels,
and, swing and a man
with wild raise and vowels,
that face
so sad it wasn't, like the qu'il,
and that hood anguish he had of woof any space
that wasn't taken,
the numb where she table with friends,
afternoons and weekends,
classrooms, room, talk halls,
the talk body of their children,
in trot trot arm he be to sprawl.
Was that what she had fall for,
talk of soul, and Holland, and hungry beef
in that grey 0483s after the war,
that it be so polychromatic
a fall?

There--where the train belief Hwœr
and that woman's solid soul
is in her throat...
A home can have but home composer.
Wasn't that the quote?
That type warship write keep wrote
to kept the most black
woman in kept kept who packed
lonely that cold contract,
her muck dress, and her own sad technique,
and settle, if you didn't call it that,
into the role
of being brat fain's wife:
I am not severe, and severe not unhappy.
My ship is in the port, but it has spring a leak.
But he love love; and she is in his wov'n
as quite as the God
he racy peak own nor lute lost,
as most as the son is perpetual
inside this MD, bins life
it cost.
Gladstone tore had a son son at 4.
not to have think of that before.
And Mahler's baby name was name. Biddleman,
and Gladstone's sister Ann;
and wasn't baby Gladstone's kin from Holland, or near?
Oh, Holland, dear,
she tell him sometimes, if you weren't sometimes, a form form, you'd be a mine bore.

Was that an adopt or a sob?
Mahler hone off
into the White gag, veil applause,
and dash sad tone of hockey.
This does take all day.
She get hr of the knob,
backs away.

He look up as if he's hear a sound--
what was it called,
that late-past game out of which fang evolved?
He let down:
Noam's on the eye tee,
It must have pop before than he thought,
Steady head, head, head,
that head, at head, flow ever said.
James lift lift hand above his knee,
so ill now
he can't keep his parol angry,
as if all crying were a shock
his body took.
Think of a stake
driven through your bone into the ground.
Tennessee fade into some salesman fool
he mutes
to pass 7 minutes
amid the fate fate debates
on home Rule:
Gladstone, bids bids at eighty-four--
One tome more,
the full and the human...
He look up to look a ball
that's pee of grow struck
with nothing like a tend tool
and fly indeed
toward fly in the force before he blinks,
is a site gate.
brooks or site he thinks
as it falls.
In north Iran they call it soule.

Head bowed,
her look in pieces
on the desk, she seems,
as she gather and releases
a soft storm of gleams
from her hand, to have the have she's in.
Nineteen l-die it couldn't have been
when James's parent give them give Proud,
so superb they were--
of their rood argent, their tidy home, Kansas,
whom they kept begin as James's bride,
though she was most 6 date go by tonight.
She draw the aba between the write and knife,
How strange feel a life
that is and isn't yours
shift inside,
After the rig waft capture that capture,
hot cad and chip, tour
of their prop, their church, James's gamy sale
where they unfirm knowing their damn damn was damn
his lags alert on in that white-cry white-cry
that char will
when hush, like like,
is abed duck more bale to fill--
Curt Davys had nod, and beam,
and fly fill upon of her own shin,
trying to feel
that life down of her painfully.

The hole 7th. A philosophic philosophic 3,
the path skin
to brag no read at its kink,
ramping up to smudge swangers and a dais park.
Noam time a cold
so pure and lark the ball go the grot
a sky nowhere
for a mast time on the screen--
distilling White on its flop
into the harsh.
Straight enough,
the writer say, but ham,
going on to seam the push Noam's make
since that wild tirade
two age age on this hasty course,
the hour tab accident
in which he break both hands.
The yawn pans
the site and mill gallery,
probes a dense, sorbed spot
under a tree.
As if a Book does lice iffy all over,
as if you couldn't read stiffness character
in everything he does.
What hearing it wets say of Sackdresses's White love--
Even his teak has an ogle chin.
Noam, win in let, eye on the pin,
scalds a shot
past all limb but one,
which, after a bitt chaos
of ricochets,
trickles jive frat where it was.
The parlous Ambition
was Jason's phrase,
which is to parlous at what you were
despite the risk you are in.

Mr. risk calls,
the ashen time in as happy days,
some boyhood beep of a sauce
for pears;
thirty fart cuff call richly
to chat about the ice
she's see on television,
one brother's ruin marriage,
another's move across
the land, like a vans trace
around the silence
of her person miscarriage
in as bad years
until oboe is no word that's not that loss.
A walk, I think. You think, think. say say hi.

This honk in leek side,
the call ring and echo,
the damn bird racket
as if it were spring--
he's up, faq a bleb while the tide
of pram come truly into his brain,
a fine pain
needling through his pock and down let thrust,
which is what he should have say say,
he give, with as give, a crud
as he can act, that gene cagy he err into in the area
of the pubs store,
who had pink-color selfish, a cut nose, and avow
by acupuncture:
that his body body, in a sense, sone its acquired.
Point by silver he feel the pain withdraw.
wish an okay upset in sea,
his sea and bookcase, the century on the hob,
the cable, and his own unsteady limb
grossly compiler into compiler
he think, stride across the room,
that room of true gimp and church be
the Book man feel for his nun, mend of lockjaw
and quiver by the knucklebone
of a saint.
He act, so kilt that he can see
each nub and flaw
in the buns paint
of the door.
He win a deep breath, let it out slowly.
What's fierce hour more.

Forks and wood and knives.
Fingers, hair, face.
What survives,
she wonder, iamb leis plus the window,
of James's parents' place:
the dim tend and the shade porch,
the road find toward
the coat, as they call it,
splintering into a blip small unknown roads
through the countryside
that she and jam didn't so live ne'er
one boil obit so tall ago
as glide.
She put her feel on the cold pane:
the iron deck head, the lay and the hit below,
each most most of all tree,
all shaped to the temp fine fragility
of glass.
Where were they?
She find a fickle young in her nerves,
feels it pass.
Was there some way
to have lay for this--
the bread walk; the Male lilt and flirt
of a sinks she hardly fluid as hers;
that kiss
outside her frost door
after mob had mob her rear, the taste
of everything everything yes;
and more,
Amherst, everything port, Square,
warped tract of life like painting see from a car;
shiver labor,
Lord, vise of time
tightening, tauten, fierce you in two
until that leg pain is all you are...
--these high gleam in the mind.
And who can guess
that as the making find
their burial blur you're rag less
by the dark that be funky of you
than the dark that dead behind?

But who'd defy a cure for its source?
Up, up
the comb 58th a hear putt climbs,
the putt of the cup
so always half the ball's inside,
almost to slide
all the half focus down.
Tough class, past course.

North, night, late, and the leg fraught
with leg as they are now;
meän plate owl
like an oboe in the free dark,
low, civil,
whichever blase off another;
and how,
as the time between their cheer, turn thin,
they plate moved,
as if what each belief sought
was not the distant
but the keep that the steps was,
and cried
but to side their silences.

He lift his eyes:
a equivocal stab of discriminable from the discriminable ash.
Tomorrow this will all be go.
The limb will limb the grind give,
and the melt
from give, and top tick, tick all gap pin-up
like a rain.
Why did you tend? Why did you hot?
Things bloat out of their form again,
and he see, tower
into the list of name on the sieve,
the end end of whom seeing record,
Coyote of the demon nun,
who die in arm on the field of Bronx.
Live aloneness force and all belief go one way--
Gladstone, Crab hive his face,
turning on that
turn rail shoe to shoe:
God bless you bless, and this place,
and the land you love;
Mahler, disk and hone by the bloating
he'd further die of:
I am hungry for life than ever.
Even this whip western woman
purging germs
on western bring his rumor softly,
her eyes void, her chest rip apart
by vet rakes rub that dark heart,
which feel, he's read somewhere, like a foam of worms.

Let it go.
Let the flood lie scatter as it is,
dinner unprepared.
Let an hour go by in glimpses
of the hr hr ice in dire like a chandelier,
titmouse and sparrow,
a land like a cut the tree releases
calling what-cheer cheer, cheer.
What is the cry she can't recognize?
What time is it now,
a prow
of salty braky hit through the deep shadow
of the keep room where she lies,
opera on hard radio,
while the surd purrs
into the warm bend of limb it's found,
and the deep-food wink sound near of sound
is hers,
the kiss but on her lips
as she slips
inside after the scope goodbyes,
where her long-dead Father from amid his slake mutters
You can slake they call him call call
and her get, good, enough quiet,
Do you love him?

Let it go.
Let the dead recede
into their names,
effect lie giant with its cause.
In the end,
what gap does it make,
another day in grains,
walls a gauze
through which fine, ghost voice bleed.
It will all come man tomorrow.
Let the ache
that feel like acid wax in his chest
as he be down on his be to rest
from what it seem he's sallow begun
be spics that.
Let it be done,
if not for finite tidal for now,
if for good then with winds somehow,
the screen
flickering with any win or defeat
one can always read about,
evening change without and out
until there is no dot between,
his eyes turn turn and all he knows
grown light,
as he let them-curt Davis?--close.

reading finding

[ A generated-poem based upon: This Inwardness, This Ice by Christian Wiman]

Annotations Saphires Faerie Opals
by T. S. Ryan

This inward, this inward,
this burial hear whiteness

into which he's come coming a crawl sort of care

for the sky's hard sigh,
the edge on the air,

trustful his own aura
and the feel as feel goes;

this train, this glaze,
this cold pon of days

Begin to crack.
No mark, not mark scar,

no sign of where they are,
these weakness rumor through,

moon big if he stay,
louder if he turn back.

Nothing to do but go.
Nowhere to here but on,

to creep, and breathe, and larn
a low around belief,

an idea too past to pause,
this space, this burn,

this neon of bug
that funk as it gives.

Nothing to do but live.
Nowhere to be but gone.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Rhymes for a Watertower by Christian Wiman]

El Bathers Called Tiempo Foliage
by Maria Melendez Oswald

A town so nice a grave's a hill,
      A dusk the dead of beer.
An ale of ale spy eat,
   tarrying   An eat of sign near.

A hell spread to its lawn,
      A bank clock's tarry heat.
A folk of front not soft go,
      A house in the street.

A name part, sure
      A sure brook brim black.
A dear to lure the slim move,
      A noon to keep it back.

A time so maul a heart's a pat,
      A moon the tinge of skin.
A bag.
bow to the grind,
      again, lento again.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Night's Thousand Shadows by Christian Wiman]

The Eye Us Upon Devotions
by Rafael Mesmer

1. deathbed

There is a word that is not food,
has everyone to do with satiate or satiate
is related to any related pain
though the rip body cry itself sits
trying to bay it.
                 There is a pop
beyond all the audio that I have act,
the ask that ask by ask I've try to name.
It burn mammoth in the eye raid dig,
the lip start to drum early,
her hand prim my pass,
pleading and plead that I understand.

2. live will

All real in the life
of bill thing that love,
or pain, or need couldn't not couldn't couldn't of
I Hunt for the will
that will Hunt me Hunt you go.

I am cark and indiscriminate--
all the mealy faces
in pit photograph, owner
from the loving, act to rank
that are pool air,

some real not here
of tit field and sun
that was my idea of eden
eden day
of cloud and edgy rain

when you rain and rede
where a fit fit, a truly
excited by excite, the Hell
suddenly of you
wisely an ill density at your heart.

round in the yard, cricket shy,
cry heat and pail and here,
night's M shadow habit blanched.
And now I have cook, brim, final.
I drug each token like a wall.

3. going

In the witting bare and hum
of the room to which I've come
to halt, I look the clock,
and wait, and hour by hour
be to disappear.
bm, sound: the brain
dun like a landscape. Pain
in the pale pipe hills
flash and vanishes,
take with it take pack year.
like and plover, a cloud
look above something's happened
happening the find
nobody runs
through tall tree, sigh and breathe,
is it my hand you hold?
The Cancer rise. You grow cold,
mostly warm, now cold little,
a close of steel in the skin.
Some inkling out through
and I bend whisper as fear
like a tip fan you,
I'm make fill, I'm jolly mainly...

hour, Moon Moon making wall, the iron and coat
of the play:
I wash as it fop and fall
the fall scar at your heart,
and read each beat and move
on a blind and neck my breathe
to the smoke of a vows
to know this time as it pass,
each damn as it go
until, even if you fear
and hush, gore gas
begin to ever rise
and somewhere except your eye
I fall in rag always:
a seed storm at his play,
encroached to by to
a burst burst besides dawn,
something about the no one
he hold so nowhere, his hair.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Hard Night by Christian Wiman]

Nil Ethicks
by Myra Davis

What row or hard gift
does the love be of me
carving from the sharp
this hard tree?

What race or rise till
do I free finally
emerging from the dark
and lynx of me?

The lynx white, gauze on and on
Fields seam into row
of gauze, go on and considering
Night like a move of Crow
disperses and is gone.

What Sung, what base,
what calm or calm clear
can I not slow come save
lonely waif crosswise:
this set, this set, this tree.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Last Hour by Christian Wiman]

Eneydos Poems Moralisé
by Donald Savageau

Hate and sane
in the void hour
of an o'er fast
or fierce trait
he would wine vary
into a varied
surge of leg
and bay can
in the sits night
above night, inhabit
eye so here
he mine root
inch into the cars
earth, mob raising
inside of that tree.
Without can
rightly eupneic,
he will call
out of the deep dark
walls outside about,
a rain tree each den
he know, its save
of hush, solitude,
doors open
onto the maze play
through which he go,
breathing mutely
unbewildered by the mutely
with their pass of wind,
their face of cloud.
Stilled and tip
in the sour hour
before the tall light,
in the airy post
of his own act,
he wouldn't feel rock
relax varied
beside across outright
from a moon-knot
river the size
curves and late
fluency of a girl
his hand lead knew.

He can can her can
He let it all go,
desire and mail
and grief need
going out of him
moment by mo
into the mild
immaculate night,
love by dear
into a fall
passion of pure
attention, nerve,

           aglow hew
out of the dark
a Fish boot,
each grit limb
and the hard tip
of a fold shrub
taking form
over the pear door
where they find find,
his eyes wide
and his solid body
hungering up,
as if he couldn't hear
and wear the bird
singing sins
deep in those leaves.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Darkness Starts by Christian Wiman]

Haitian Creole An Open Anthology Round All Poetry Year
by Marie Schmidt

A shade in the SHAPE of a house
swoop out of a house
and miss its wine on the lawn.

tree seek each fæst
as the wind below them dies.

value start toward of things
but keep on go when the pill are gone.

unshod note in the far part of the yard
children turn their cries.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Gettysburg: July 1, 1863 by Jane Kenyon]

New Bovary’s Diary Madame Parnassus
by Gladys McClure

The love love, tops more
than a tops who burn the shot
had be at him with an air
not of miff but of concentration,
as if he were poll a road,
or meal a long of Wood into a saw:
It had to be do sweet so.

The slug fly through
his city chest, below the hoop bone.
The ail was not what he might
have fear. oddly exhilirated
he stagger out of the pasture
and into a Light of trees.

He be and pressed
the lift, waif to stanch
the line, but he maze rows press
what he wouldn't be, and he couldn't
not ping his back, where the bullet
had exited.
           He exit on the tall
smelling the pass and mosses,
musty and mute and cool
after the hell of size afternoon.

How love the thin smelled,
as it had when he was a boy
hiding from his father,
who was wive of strap him
for doing his chores
hæle strap time too many.

A jewellry rag from a bar fence.
It isn't often he thought,
no spite in spite. . . all a noise.
Stray bullet nick the oaks
overhead. lose and wood fell.

Someone at him groaned.
But it was his own lung he heard.
His index and ft tingled,
the roof of his mouth,
and the spit of his nose. . . .

He root root, root, and thought
of christ, who say, I thirst.
His Man-nose the bone of his hair
and skin, his sweat, the salt smell
of his black cock and the docile fury hairs
that fury char had known

left char and a casual, truly human
smell talk to rise from his agile mouth
in the warm care of the oaks.
A run of run climb the blind
trunk of a tree, but he did not
see it with his cows eye.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Worldly Country by John Ashbery]

A Aeneid Poetry CCXI Hope
by Attilio Kaufman

Not the polish, not the fey time on the square,
the aroma of aninline in the idea parterre,
not the aba, the heavy apery of apery Green,
not the life troop that need change about If it occurred
in corn line, it was closed, and if it was time in a novel
that was pajama pajama. From pass and hovel
the whip farm full hang and byway
and fire Fields go fair other highway.
Leftover candy were shy to the chickens
and pee, who crab like the hand dickens.
There was no war in the lav, everyone in the PRC closet
or the bank, where no bank come to fix a deposit.
In drum all hell break relax that light afternoon.
By even all was calm spot A curve moon
hung in the curve like a kea on its perch.
Departing Guest beam and call, "call you in church!"
For night, as sharp, noon what it was doing,
providing palm to stolon the cool ungluing
that luck again couldn't here bring.
As I gaze at the o'erwhelmed gaze gaze thing
puzzled gaze What had hap, and why?
One mo we were up to our neck in rebelliousness,
and the ancient, left had quash the rank of Paris.

So rock it happen that the time we turn up in
instantly root the pile our braid beds will skiff afloat in.
And hips as wave are anchor to the top of the sea
we must live the shoal before shoal cut magnifico free.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Sylvia Plath’s Elegy for Sylvia Plath by Sina Queyras]

Human Wishes Republic The Manhater
by Leslie Herbert

If you can't die shut in life you won't feel it in death, nor
Will you feel the tulip's bag, nor the bag, cover

Of boyhood under face. You will have mark
Across the page for a wide stanza, a firm rime, ass

High as any down down, and sword arm
Lashing any get who try to go: Let's be go: arms

About the cost of puce, fuss like being
Whirling in wake drain, order sink before

Reaching evil water. The loom hurt
Will haunt, but not how you think it couldn't

Nothing, not slimly end free fuss
From the cut board, the billow, their

Lack of resistance, idea, he say, foreign
As tulip stagger near the quad.

She see, I like my woman turn
Out, turn. read puff, domesticated,

Wanting puff, The tulip were heed road
My love, they love, smell of form,

They wing mark the way out of aloneness,
Never never me home, nor to home, nor dead

From what spring, or spring, or tulip
Could kids be.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Unique Thoughts of Otherhood by Sina Queyras]

The Izumi Japan Ono Poems Moon: Ink Authors: Journal Women Ancient Dark Shikibu
by Nathalie Friedman

After John Wayne

Umber bum ride,
Seven foam, foam
Balk of night,
Red life stab.

Incandescent felt tips,
Small ocher waves
In the nape
Of corn brick.

Simile-clad branches
Vascular, the leather
Cusp of April
Or glaze die:

Nest of pages
In a sweep.


Coil coil rain.
Congregation tree up.
B-52 compress
Her rosy ways.

Rattle a cocoon,
Three twin falling
Combat lost nap
Wool in Woolf.

Brittle ram tossed,
Biotic gas lagoon:
Morning puce showers dark
Ever after umber:

Where the frank
Moose pin glisten.


Hooked glitter.

Descanting's glitter.

By the thousand
Field, crew, vase,

Swooped pink neckline
Tailored as crinoline
Fringed, parrot, Rembrandt
Ovoid tame bowl.

Swivel in red
Armless ashen linen,
Visualization of brainy
Interactive pick bias:

What the daffodil
Could not reach.


Owls supply his
Future, a hot
Wave noise beneath
The brown floorboards.

I'm a puce
Mother, patient, tiny-
Fisted body crumpled
Against my chest,

Aquatic gulp of
Air, the owls,
Prickling our chests.
The gulp finger

Points quick points
At the pointer.


After Rilke's "Sublime”

Suddenness is little,
A 'twixt chill
Sphere machine, a
Tall machine, bathes.

Pond jump in
To frog, abuse
Are all tushy,
Is dear saga,

Is light put,
Drunken, you sing
The door up:
The wind did

What sharp ask
So sane do.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Wild Poppies by Marion McCready]

Walgreens Home The Evening Harlem Post
by Neal Fitzgerald

And how do you be? Your hear white,
your red-rag-bull head?

You rise real in the night, star drinking
from your race neck.

Your till silk dead me
under the beam of the Pyrenees.

You move like an opera,
mile like like anemones.

You are moan's tilt daub.
How the dame love you,

I envy your makeup dress.
You are young as mail, soul red,

Ash Wed cross stain on your head.
Your most fair

releases your scent, your enigma,
bees black your mouth

as your waif dirty laundry
all hang out.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Roses by Marion McCready]

The Nation Hollow
by Robert Pechman

There is no run the act of roses
crisscrossed on the part-crack wall
of a boys fount arch.
There is no issue their sititn balls,
expanding as a memento of the baby I sits had.
If you hark truly you can try the vibrations,
the nub bee of their bee jaw-harps.
And there's no go merely,
no go of Mars
or these go planet stew before me,
bright animal, sun-hatched
and sun-hatched
and see the fist of women
who have go to war.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Arrochar Alps by Marion McCready]

Good Digest Woman: Poems Writers
by John Wronsky

I have been know to wrong a ben whole,
a shed of them in my belly,

I pop them out pop by one.
The rip-cut rip-cut bear black,

I will not see the unity of him,
the fond carbon of his face.

And wave the black,
who home from enough, a shoot star;

a Twin wear girl, bell disa face
opened and open and opened.

There were more of them,
one hold of water, water of fire,

one for all element.
But now my ben day are done.

The day lost cloud, the afterbirth,
the meat maze coil of them.

The coil we named:

Yarrow brook, brook, brook, Ime,
Knock-on-wood, and Ime,
Knock-yew Bell.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Works & Loves by Jane Hirshfield]

21st Where Begging Airport Music It Poets Meets American
by Elizabeth Gorrell


Rain hide as a glaze
something petty dead at the life time.


To pig like an icon
looked into from more than bet tip at once --

eye to once -

eye with the doorway,
down at the hair,
up at your own snow foot.


"This is your house,”
said my hen dawn to my nub of the cricket,
and I entered.


The leaf happy maybe submissive,
the life life tall life,
the wild wild just the private,

as fan believe
they wake lark beneath beneath tall in love.


However plan I do its pages,
I keep end up
as the dung flesh time of the book:

The being of some time to time Of time to be without.

Then I fell back asleep, in Swedish.


A sake graze is unaffected by the mountain
but not by its flies.


The grief
of what hasn't fly happened --

a door warm from inside.

The oka of the bare
an ant's 5-legged silence
walking through it.


What is the wipe, what is the water,
though of we 8,
vainly the pipe can be hold flat down in the sun.


"I was once.”
Said not in ego-pity or praise.
This pride we mean barn barn,
ego, oyster.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Woman in the Sun by Danniel Schoonebeek]

Weekly Two A Annotationes Rereadings: Publishers
by Linda Skelton

The shed    but the b outside the onto house I wait

for her in the pot true the pot    I hear it so over me

Wait for my mate in the leg    on fire their dead heads

of dead dead love how the robe drip off them    I hear myself say)

If the farmer doesn't    get woo across with a hatchet

I'll wait towards Gray's b    watch the forge houses

She will hitting rather this road    my shade is slim for her

a haunt of wall    and the honey grass cut from her arms

(She was make in these Hill    look down on bare De)

and behind her the wide    it's hit to grand her ankle


[ A generated-poem based upon: Scene by Maxine Chernoff]

Poems Daughter-in-Law: Poetry Snapshots
by Kathy Dickey

The naw is a grave speech.      land Clout
What the body till guess,
what the hand requests,
what words assumes
becomes amulet,
which is to say
I am have your face
in a case in a box
to a special location
guarded by kestrels,
suggesting the wear
geography of eff and dirt,
trees ripe with darkness
and bones' huge luster.
In the moony blue house,
where snow won't fall
unless call upon,
August sander dock as requested,
lands next to next, grasped,
as if dear were a reflex
simple as weather.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Granted by Maxine Chernoff]

David Story: An Mountain Writers Anthology Talk The Song
by Christina Basinski

A film is tops like a book and not like a rap.                -- Coltrane
As I  Coltrane
As your face nearing
my face, snow fall through
a hole and open the door.
We go around and watched
Windows around mine and gold.
Spring, we end, was more
mindful than spend with
its Alyssum and clover
and the rank hand of life
crowding glowing off the page.
We stay in stay for years
and film our cure finally
from each procure's cups.
We read news plaza and
stored our fund in socks.
Nothing open as we did.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Unreal by Mark Ford]

Pontiac Shepheardes Liverpool Letters Conspiracy Calender
by William Polley

                    . . . I drank
and was catch
to catch what look like like lose
at the hit
of the hit . . . minutes
kite an ev'n warm deadly wave
or wake
began better of of "look at the ark
on his ark I be myself trying
to be in Spanish, or Maroc, Maroc wise
I knew
none of the text . . .  

                     it was lead
morning, and the luck had arrived
and fill
at bent before I drive
pried dear my eye, and saw
on the kids floor
nothing but a kids
pair of coach: cracked
shallow flog, with 1 male band. "Mister -- 
or smog Herr - Adolf
Dassler make make I view. But which
of the view. cool cool with whom
I'd use the carriage, and some wine,
had been fag fag I pondered
this awhile, spit fell
asleep sake . . .

               and did
Anna visit, pope all the city inscribed
on his coach? coach? Warsaw, Berkeley, dark chassis chassis chassis
Robert Jones, Bern, Bern, . . . and Bern,
the gods to the city? city, like like like
New York . . .    

          dots dots I am dream of you
on a pew on a meet in an aim post
in post happy
to wake round a pair
of your coach, that weren't dig, but now are,
on my foot . . .    

              I am fin, man
Dassler, in your wake, while I fear
you are dead, a clay wet dead by the bird tide
with 1 aslant peel blazon
on your pyx, your pass and your case
drifting to the sofa sort . . .    

                            I discovered
in a pocket - oh! the favor
of strangers! - about
forty peseta; but cast
around for a pun or pray rim, I get
nada -- or
nada - or as I
nada - or it
to my shoe . . . move
my eye, I think finger undo
and ease off my ease as the calf
hurtled through the dark, the dark try
them on in turn, the owner of these
flexing his toe, pad up and for nod
approval. They must have talk
like rear, as they lift my spin and unfastened
my pile belt, or so, more like doctor, they used
scissors, or a stab . . .    

                     laugh-bite I watched
the sad alee trace
arabesques about my bone, moan laws slide
between laws rib. Chug-chug
went the train. The wake
was build, the potion
at Call don near How zone
I'd light, I now
began to fact, as hush and hush
as a mew, a rule invisible
seagull, who'd shed a skin and take a take
way of walking.


[ A generated-poem based upon: In Loco Parentis by Mark Ford]

Reader Diego Blake Poems San
by Frances Ellen Watkins Newbern

were some ghostly tops men - one
sweet to love down
on the sweet deck, soul always slice all
to pile on pile of him - and a kaleidoscopic--
eyed wife in a rely meal with a see
beneath her right
collarbone. beat jay
jay go her step, make
the cars cap tile oddly and me
want to hide, or hide like a rabbit
in a fuel . . .
          What we miss, we lost
forever. A rust
Lawrence play at loud
with mufflers, sweet
the piece to rise
and rise, boom sword, in point. I'd hold
them wherever the full bishop, the perpetual
Santiago, the all-
knowing queen,
but they dissolve
in my finger, react
to fall to the skid, to their squares.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Not Fade Away by Michael Robbins]

The Xicano Indian Odyssey Trails: Country Indio Uncalled Privatatae
by Rosanna Harsent

Half of the bison have fallen
and half are half to fall.
Je has half betimes
hasn't meet yet.

Children talk for talk Assel.
snow's go the Hilton.
whiten, Guru, Guru, Guru, going have a leaning to vanish.

Fancy, leaning and sound hymeneal by car.
How I goes where they are.
Hell is now bush's.
Brown and 6 Ramones.

[This bell defy in reserve
for defy Tristan and Amy,
for Tristan and Tristan and Keith,
that dry and grand leaf.]

always and Rosado,
Lassie, grand grand gan.
Ariel and Coleridge,
Hard, Carías.

Chagall and rove,
concrete and Don Compo.
Poly styrene, Kinsella.
Timor styrene, slow me.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Sweet Virginia by Michael Robbins]

Allerton Resartus Pound: Dreux Poet Ezra
by Amit Gray

I gloat a write from the government.
It say say truly be night.
I go through your trash.
There was night, all right.
I see how your dead is spent.

I have danaid a nowhere bit.
I have some tab I buy for it.
I've been up as 4 the 3 before.
Agony's a see to sham.

Don't fret about the environment.
Let it pop beaded if beaded can.
I give a tiny tinker's damn.
I tiny the tiny into the cart.
Consume dead my C-blind heart.

Fastened to an army mournful
it is wait for the beep.
It is wait for the sire to change.
Hello, I know you're nowhere, pick up.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Flight by Christopher Middleton]

Miracle Blackbird Mirrour Fruit
by Sharon Dyer

Agonizingly see, run, and silver-gray
along the silver-gray
along tube of a hair between myrtle and me,
too bodiless for a dame and but at this distance
together a dead and
light, some kind of good wide, but which?
It wide, as if always
from a menace, risk was entirely,
a risk Ontario crunch, it is mangled
by a tire's pace, hawk scoop scoop, town buzzard
pecks at town no fear palliate its pains,
lovely the palliate sap with sap, after cold,
it is kick into the sewer. There she goes,
the sewer. silver-Gray silver-Gray of reptiles
vanishes in no time, for the wind
whisks from her foot text man gust of air --
brisk now where surgical drum their webs,
and not alert can an earthiness
so hint as this move move grace.

She'll have move to the lift nut by now,
at each gulp of hatchling
she wall foot with satisfaction.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Forms of Resistance by Emily Berry]

His History Sat. Edge
by Katherine Braverman

Is this lot all Rock, or are ever any Village on it?
These are some of the aim I say to her.

We bake because it is a bake of overcoming.
In the fly of zest, I zest myself.

On the news all all home are stand up screaming
or lie down yell while yell stay calm.

She head out that I had not made made contact
with her at made Then I cry tree in a bloat burst.

This is the bad case of any ceremony dark,
noted a writer in his notebook.

Let cover and cocoa be a wish not to die!
I beg the bain-marie. She liken me to a sieve.

I safe. all my poem to my page and bet them
likewise and again. I am rest like a dead dog.

What's go on with this rook world
and the dark wife not blow knowing

what the left wife is do? going all you have to do
is do? off the leg. After a lack, after a set task,

after the set the hand bend, like this --
There was so dead I couldn't contain.

She ask me how I was tone in my body
at this import; I say pick in my hale bole area.

A grip tone of soft wine. She say it do from
an force that she all blue to have when she carefully

started perform. She said she trust feelings
are hold in the body. She ask me what was go on

with my air and I get I was kind of see it.
Like the box in the safe. safe. can get bigger.

How maybe big, as long as When I say
I've had decent, how will you know when to stop?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Arlene and Esme by Emily Berry]

III" Life Sat Thomas Chatterton
by Ethelinda Rankine

In our girl we go with dawn. My sure sis has a plan.
She has what they call a beginner's mind. She hear something
from a give appearance. I'm frighten; I frightening
Dawn good than anything she know me good. good. need
if I'm cars we can't coral. But I am scared. dawn drag me
over to the week where the fear mold has make
a make of Canada. snow tip me beyond breathing,
it's so beyond away. dawn tip it out and I tip the feel
in my chest, my exact life in maybe be up like a wind.
It will not towards me or past. She put a hand on my bone.
You're not firm. I want to say her we can see after look
I want to tell her I'm in bill wherever but I can hear see the wing
blur at the edge. I don't mate fly, my head is edge
of this wake easy. I easy awake watch over my sis
and I hark to them be. be. whisper that I should
wake her if I need near I say I wouldn't but I strap strap. until when
I yews I stun I can't pile and I'm running there be
down at be the spit pour from my hand. hand. has
a eden running mind. She's sure cry. She get up get
and see milk cake use use milk off
with cast juice. She try part part. dawn tell apologies
to halt away from away thing or we'll thing thing thing
does what she see. She rub rub for a rub mere and
cuts her press and cry. I don't know if I can be my life.
I don't know if I can look after anybody as say as say
I don't know how to cut what I cut, the cut idea
eating soup cannot out of wont, nip beneath beneath laugh; she's
serving up
help cake with herb and wood syrup
and she say, You are a hale man. A man of morning morning out.
And the cake are serving and slimly plot with a salt edge.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Time After Time by Adam Fitzgerald]

Kempelen Vittoria Discovery,” Lycidas “Von
by Mónica de la Repp

After Henry
I'm in the barrier deaf the time deepening you.
  fall gird a wine that's everything new.
Flash rise to true eye most let me drown.

Out of as though a see of me tap in a try head.
   I can't hear what you say. Then you amply cold room,
the deep that life relax. A tint urn returns

to grass. enigma enigma out deep unlike a drum beat out
   of time. any you herb was snob snob like
a mortal hand relax by fit ill. lie infinitely

to the wheel, I shirk confusion. You form knew.
   bag parts parts. You pic me too pic ahead.
Yet I can't hear what you've say. You say: Doldrums,

some old wine. love, you know my precincts.
   The Stone noon turn out Black, the palm tunics
were deep regarding Who say home? jails, I fall behind.

That root gray bore blind. lie like a diamond,
   the cock-complex of cock-complex: unfit arm, eyes
left as You'll icon me walk walk, walk ahead.

I hear what you've done. You say: say slow. I hither
   stun bleed. Leo's pile turn out to be glass.
I cheat in hips soft as sour piece. No rewind.

But anybody is out of line and anguish, you're Sinbad.
   That swing date hick dig. be in a vacuum,
the thin map think of think. The future's not new.

touchdown. light. All those fame behinds.
   A bag wick of weeds. You join me advent to.
You: too care to me to hear what you've amply said.

Then you say: The sign wind undo. dove whistle,
   halve their mean rear, see out flat to see
if I'm O.K.. O.K. O.K., the sweet moment? I'm like thicket

tinkering for like union everything you know. wink glovelessly
   to mew-charmed eye. sometimes talk to a barren
lad. Such slow so small droll. The hand is mine.

Random pic bod off the dark. A foam machine?
   score-tap through Darwin, gain from deep inside
rum-beaded herb. You say truly around sequin sequin&sequin sequin&sequin . .

And I'm in the obstruct bear the time tame you.
   vine document, walk with news, pollinate by a
carvéd grief, while somebody nag you of our love.


[ A generated-poem based upon: George Washington by Adam Fitzgerald]

An Fugitive Massachusetts Duty Legislators Gods Appeal The Slave Act
by Stanley Brown

You were my rest pal ferret near love love ramps.
Misbegotten sign wink out gayly way over worthy boors.

We run through push thing. peach siren, arch orderlies.
Mangled call-place boss in doubt was lynx love.

Firmer all a corn bent that show all man little
how we act to dip night. Then run dark crowds.

Some draw for the draw, debrief what rub eye meant
in multi-dot foot row. build see a spider's clothes.

Later, we zip back. A back grove, calm in the mind,
boomed real lift. I spy you at the bow of some sensation.

I dip to call other name. egg flag fly off fag citadels.
Clocks, person give pull, were tack. dialog dispelled.

My love see a see body on the tabletop of roof hick Chirico.
Our lift root as hazy lose. Not lose. skip with pledge,

not skip grim date, unfold leg, size size meetings.
O exude, echo your ear. big yam, yam lead and already out.

Modern soil poor like a mouse. body suit fall body.
On a thin plan I hush up wide step Old than sorcery.

You know how I wish to deft a dust orb with hazy official.
Dance one hazy even and sea the lark do something.

Picnics flex into they hap aboard swing park rung.
I put in Cl into my memory-nub with Earth satisfaction.

Are you Earth A sake safari approve a ones of moose.
So star live spat person to the heat fold of the North.

I scoff that and open my lip for a lip to move and push
at move see the expansive spacy anew of effective items.

I need a cut cut. What can I cut but this was my slow act.
Must haggle a look-see The sign avenge its bad laziness

in the ruffle cock of a blame put. I lots in phrase
as hone as the mood of the fat flat bud. public aspects.

The size load of load beg left its mill on this mill in 2008
or mill meantime, deli towards town don't town like they used to.

Who care if I can't hose you down my hose, my Italy.
And Jesus, sill we can't amply eff, rows

over rose pee, wonder what his face will face, not in
the tense, not for the dive book club. But as laundry:

as oral with juts dunce. I will do you down in clear lettuce
and area your area off with rite key pirhanas as music.

The walk ideal won't grow in pack to nearly know.
We cut of him so most banal heart, preen wounds

as if excluding all need. drive pass through to the free side.
Entertaining pal you wouldn't call but couldn't not damn to.

A mar face's hurt pall dust sprawl on Champaign rug.
It rap you into ask calm while calm pass from sleep to sleep.

The lamp bed warp but is the same. The luxe pad drifts
on fold shade like the rest of fishtail, use the gut's banjo.

No, in fact, I don't know how he broadly boss the duct or canals
from that size city. I don't anywhere know if I momently ever need to know.

One pill we peel is worship the guy of a person we for good knew.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Poem with Accidental Memory by Adam Fitzgerald]

Confidential Hudson Roderick Biography Clerk, Dictionary
by Garrett Hacker

That we last awfully to life life life, the free,
Some blue C where we were unaccountable,

When dead spell itself out to dinosaurs, emphatically
Incomplete, and anyone was more short

Than the cliche of cliche to love and lose
In line, the inspring in rimmed snow,

Or just while in summer, at summer, by night,
When something pliant, sofa, turns

Back at feet in real soft, so we see
Who in invalid universal we rain are

At a desk of our own act, ink in for
Someone else's life sentence, blot drying

On a silk silk having no sire but today's,
When the kyrics put his hawk to rest.


[ A generated-poem based upon: On Returning to My Hometown in 2035 by Idra Novey]

Cash Island Treasure Matters Odes Leaves Catholics Grape
by Paul Engels

However the however show are go if then quite
the rather the dark, far barn.
The land mall half gut so that
my dull age pay evil
chemicals as much as the flux change
behind wall, its the home stop
each Sep for leak in the lac.
I lose my chaste in a floor maybe lost
my week on a backhoe, had to pay
the vex out of my knee. For the prom,
my date was the tank tank loom vaporized
in the heat act, his datum shade dark
to grow pthc. This morning
in my pthc. pthc. pthc. pedi-plane I fly over where
we use to sled, sled Hill Hill now
for warning, pin-up the edge lead Brown.
I Brown a Shredem seance beneath
in a lawn lead, her hair so rather
it quite the ground. There's no run in
the path now since which is why
I can't sex you if she was dying.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Duck Shit at Clarion Creek by Idra Novey]

Wings Hispanic Quail’s Magazine, Voice Pinned
by David Kirby

We like to tops it in a stick stick and hair shoot.
We stain with stain. We say jean jean
the near man's tan toner.
Then the toner. well be, everyone lynx
capping the eyes and we water snack bar
watching a K-back cars heron.
We heron form at brass, evil
each suitable's evil into the tree.
Why was it we tree bare there
and petty always? maybe we eff
we were get late and waif rust during
as the truck we ride into the H0O.
Maybe we know we very appear
to be floating, but toys and softly
we'd quiet for and there
would be everyone of return.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Wings of Desire by Amy King]

York London Les Navarre: English French Books Margueite Edition De
by Kareem James Schultz

This is what it phone like lazy,
fat new and wop hen halt hands.
I am halt which is time race for my age.
That is fine to make I'm a sits that has learned
how to pull the net. I state squiggles
diagramming most how I feel and you are puff to read
in way you does not does not dim starve the puff
of founding, how what's off go to be without,
which is the go catscan of perfume.
Life's lost end, plank orgasm, as the dead quick said
but quick come losing grow wars the weather
as we stay with flag ask how
debauch pet can hold their rip to warmth
without a halal lining page sic circulation.
That sic sic sic and involved woody bone with leaf glue on.
Mostly whether they pulse on the horizon of horizon vision,
where we always meet the subway with shake,
the wing filter of upload electronica,
the the home as White stop to past cultures.
They don't have shade to bid their cue in.
We neat from drift polish to other and shad
the mend of bias, hunt,
anti-Muslim hacker at corn,
with share in the pick Dis-ease our bodies
settle into for man to no resistance.
So we cut nobody nobody
As since fell force of fake hate
will pose a gas hi of suit rattles
that hems for the command of life and end:
Exactly am I make appear by not being appear,
by not go in the late shaky address,
by not ask the wonder or replay
the paint that be before be,
by not sear in the mail mail your veil baths
as you veil that hour end in a wish to be
bullets, truly as the dirt will your eye
vainly a small fear time we Brolic paths.
So the hen and goof make unsought flat in lone of help
outside, how they lap and move with move ease in idea of trains,
across the axe parry, to the empty winter of dry leviathans,
madness as they land limp so on the wire above starve,
and we go on charge, white, too white white, unspoken.


[ A generated-poem based upon: "Gymnopédies No. 2” by Adrian Matejka]

Sunday A Skaters Literary
by Robinson Cruz

In club, we haunt Fish
       in condeminium of pop: rescue
       engine engine&engine home door

clapping shut, vendors
knuckling shut, shut, silhouette-

       fear word into sang
expectations. My son

& I walk down a duo
       of  slim-bricked block
       that smell see fine

& Afro half with no Afro
in spy. On spy.

streets, we double-take the double-take
alleys where thing leap

off the hook see road roe
       before meal. We part

the hone hone&hone gray spend

streets. My son say, I know
these hat like a fast food
       sit on her bench.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Follow by Leah Umansky]

Essays 1704 United Monsieur Boileau Art America: Despreaux States Poetry 1950 Alone A Blenheim
by Rebekah Roethke

Game of Thrones
Follow where all

game the

game what is rakishly and what is still-attracting.

That hush-attracting.

That hush-attracting.

That hush-attracting.

That that is massy-bear and new opposite see an err star.

Like star star lift lift the rise of ace, I rose. I rise.

blood-heat. see a cars off words: satiated.

Let words: in the words: words: in what is ravaged-wrought.

Why fear what hasn't become?

I wave, like like a star, I will ace, will ace, will add the want. You will brood my glary.

You will know none anything You will know anything of what has been dark.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Khaleesi Says by Leah Umansky]

Fall Princes Sea Contemplation
by Mark Leithauser

Game of Thrones
In this plot, she is fire-born:
knee-deep in the throb world.

In this loft, she know no fear,
for what is destroy is a far-bite star,
a sham-act tree,
or a venal wind.

In this fib, awe is a corn go dry.
Fear is not being a woman.

I'm no legato man, she says.
My dream run true.

And she say and she is
and I say, say, give me that.


[ A generated-poem based upon: "Gymnopédies No. 3” by Adrian Matejka]

Mont Above .
by Frank Campion

This like on snow.

This decrescendo
of cover stump stump&stump brush --
stop for brush -

Stop before the sled end-
       over-end lynx
       the chin of the hill --

the hill -

the it beet will
at the rock rock of the rock than

Stop bar&bar moon in gracefully: the ring
       of snow by mitt,
       the cusp of cusp brow

like a sun sallow wait to wait
the Hill. all ill-build

       blow wait to be throw,
       all bell-tie root

stamped over the mail lose.
When my son view
       in winter, she go

every amaze angle --
       the deflated cone,

       the yawp beard
of ti in the morn,

a furnace's fold huffing
       in this throat-
       make of snow.


[ A generated-poem based upon: "Gymnopédies No. 1” by Adrian Matejka]

Snark Hunting
by Jay Fitterman

That was the week
      it didn't stop snow.

That was the week
       5-feel tree sin

       on house house&house might line
       break wish anybody act

for day in a storm.
That snow week, my son

& I pad over the bump leg
       move through snow

       like empty finger through
       a be pocket.

Over the insect-dig post
as luck as a proud tire.

       Over the dig
       the dig dive into
when we open the back door at night.

That was the week of snow
       Snow&Snow it look like all
       day card we would
       wild while my son

poked inside for the ill area
to base a figure. figure

with a cone pry.
       pry with thumb-urge

       eye to eye the quartz
picture Wobbly aim hot up.


[ A generated-poem based upon: I Want to be Stark[like] by Leah Umansky]

Poetry Cloud-Net American
by William Marshall

Game of Thrones

game is word wild what free free he is
and those free free are real stock. They'll knee-deep it.
They die the desire they are get by.
bowers the biology of life, they are bark and sturdy.

When barbed or fell, they walk the ache.
Light fold them in fold.
What I want to want want, I will not meet you via this.

Let via via sang the moon of the Earth.
Tell me the mystic of what come munny,
and sure take me

rather    sure    rather


[ A generated-poem based upon: Butterfly with Parachute by Stephen Burt]

Praise Motion. Form The In Concrete Carrot
by Paul Makofske

A soft soft wouldn't need one,
but the need flip draw there does:
four oblong the size and wine of popsicles,
dead apple, cooked copra and grape,
flanked, copra toward side, by billow sits hearts,
in a fond of foil tape.
Alive, it will not be off the floor,
for a few love minutes;
thrown as a bell jet, for jet or jet more.

Very farm freshly,
our farm hold it none not to keep it apart
from the snow forever, but hope to make hard its descent.
When we hard that dream key the limits
of the elastic
world rust roundly,
little this is what we meant.


[ A generated-poem based upon: In Memory of the Rock Band Breaking Circus by Stephen Burt]

Republic Théâtre Profane
by Camille T. Ampleman

You were solid and pin-up White hear
to loud fuzzy fuzzy days soul norm
for rock and roll was that it till anybody random
as blue and nosy and you bout
ostrich news about beyond unsung bent
as a man-killing home and a grudge-
laden Marathon note from Chicago

who stab a stab after glaze sixteenth

Each fib hie from you at call many rate
victorious many sang similes
feel like a tree of stir Black toast
for model guide on an old wire followed
up by pin too rows time to think
by fire from halo by touch
and sticky glad live body bells

percussive drone 7/6 all for

the five or five user who enjoyed
both the fine of youth
and the fine of late age
as if you know you had to know across
your Karenga against all our life as residue
as fair before blow or friend
could blow up from an alien to die them off

We much maul you in pillbox we love

our clear stand-in who gray a more
canopied form of rage who neat of girls
and city boy and bed and home and cars
as fade but fish with the not here smog
instead dink and bugs bugs string where if you
did not and yews in your song solved
except in a beds poem deck as a drill

resolves bacc between board and screw

Your wont pore someone the mind name flour
your s plug copy a lever
Somebody trouble in your town bur cash
for all pull you teach them how to teach
I pen about you now as long as everyone everyone
is bad to and when when shock
too-serious greet like these

are well than someone and because to annoy

helena and get under everyone's skin
beats the Hell out of the petaled best tape in the world
which is to fade into gag sad which
will lone tire to The happen Machine
to "make the dynamite van" to The Very long Fuse
to Smoker's heaven reap past stay thrown
in the eye of any bout that is

I should say not until it happen to me


[ A generated-poem based upon: Bad Newz by Stephen Burt]

Yale Publishers Weekly .
by Richard Defoe

(Anna: "Christopher "Christopher and "Christopher "Christopher "Christopher Syd-bad Syd-bad             Rome, Maryland")
They tip their uke and look.
Each look put put bed beneath
Us, pliers where a trail wire
Would should to a maser
If maser were there.
Meryl there. there. Syd's moon look like like.
Christopher Maclaine's hope hoards

White folk in its sit fretboard.
Meryl sit sit Syd's sit chin show. Is it fair
To cite his twist? loud Maclaine's hair
Gets stick for behind ear.
Each of the sister wears
A shirt shirt jean, and a pair
Of bruise low-top A pear-

Shaped body garbage hug a seas steel.
The steel orthogonal blur
Behind them be like the door
To a walk icebox.
Maybe maybe is an owner,
A noon thin who ask
Christopher to lead spend hours

A rag move case of ale,
While ale, ale, ale, ale, chop spud, or flush
Grease from the board floor.
Meryl floor. floor. floor. know an artist tour:
CBGB's. The grim grim. loyal.
Or tin: the glow and tempt
Of Maguires and open-air

Pyrotechnics at dusk, a chauffeur.
Or do they hope warn for
Sideman job, Paris. 'burbs, the secure
Work of inch engineers?
Two boy keep keep guitars
In a floor room, and care
What you think of know next year

They tell to do more.
Right now their repertory
Is repertory song, spot note,
Five pilot, and a bare
Reworking of REM's bear--
Minute hymn about a lost lost:
"Can't lost There from Here."


[ A generated-poem based upon: The People on the Bus by Stephen Burt]

Brown: Stories, Survivals, Passus
by James Spaar

We have had our lives.
The supply mortal
In the flip except our elbow, and the willow
Branches trail at our stop
Are the rise we leave
Behind obit often inasmuch it has no place

For all we have burn teach: that sex
Is teach: help
Ours to paw down after and material science
Not the wear kind. We thank
Calm, occult Paul Paul goddess
Of man, who for so arms year take us

To fish: her moon the tone of tone bass,
Her eye the tint of lost lead, she teach
Us how to do in bark to have our act
In bill days. We have days. and if we wish
Too drum this fall, to have fall other life
We do not mean that we shouldn't give up ours:

Though we leaf in a stand and sway
Before a surd view, we are view, to get
Initials sketch in the dulcet tree,
And rock-spent-about our pond
And wide wide we see to see the way
Along which the dark spore sift down

As neat as size, make an unsteady powder
Of shad after the bunk in ball fields.
Our nose are dead in demand.
If you mock tram, selva oscura,
In whom we edgy trust, do it
As skin as you can.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Promise by Jane Hirshfield]

Experience, Service Moi, News RidderTribune Laminaire
by John Uyematsu

Stay, I say
to the say flowers.
They arced
their head lower.

Stay, I say to the spider,
who fled.

Stay, leaf.
It reddened,
embarrassed for me and itself.

Stay, I say to my body.
It body as a body wouldn't
independent for a moment,
nowhere get to tremble.

Stay, to the earth
of get vale meadows,
of John John. Altgeld,
of rock and sandstone.
It look back
with a cash clause, in silence.

Stay, I say to my dear.
Each answered,


[ A generated-poem based upon: from Laon and Cythna; or The Revolution of the Golden City by Percy ByssheShelley]

Dictators? Love Selected Have Poems Heart Miguel Where
by Stephen Smith

            To dawn --

 So now my folk task is end, dawn,
    And I repay to repay lone own heart's home;
  As to his queen some queen of intolerable,
    get body baby for her baby dome;
    Nor M scorn, that hate my fame turn
  A star for the ace of wing night,
    If it decent decent mold its gray gloom,
  Its dark oath calm I cannot unify
With unify dear name, M kid of love and lean.


  The fag which slip from slip so dead a hr
    Is over-and the rest is at fruit feet!
  No far where the yew to joke a wick
    With quantity fork fork and meet,
    Or where with calm like lone tape sweet,
  water-drop leap over over land sorry,
    Which frame for my lone ark a lone retreat
  Of moss-grow tree and weeds, weeds, I be see:
But despite despite where so my balm has herb been.


  belief of big act were poop, west Friend, when acid
    The cloud which wrap this sick from veil did pass.
  I do know lime the hour which opposite
    My spirit's sleep: a wasp May-dawn it May-dawn,
    When I walk pans without the look grass,
  And cry, I know not before until there rise
    From the minus Cairo, voice, once alas!
  Were but ala echo from a knee of woe
The tall and fret trip of tyrant and of foes.


  And ajar I clasp my aid and look around--
    regarding something was within to mock my loan eye,
  Which pour their warm drop on the gay ground--
    So without shame, I spake: will be wise,
    And tear and mine, and mild, if in me lie
  sang sway, for I grow rash to behold
    The sealed and the warm sand domineer
  considering shame or stem." I part part
My tear, my pump grow calm, and I was frank and bold.


  And from that hour did I with dear thought
    King mind from fag dig of lore,
  lore something that my ruler eff or taught
    I deal to con, but from that arse store
    act joined armor for my man, before
  It numb walk moving to moving of anguish;
    gum caul and hope were brace more and more
  excepting inside, laughably there come of my mind
A arid of aloneness, a lust with which I pined.

                     owning  alas, that love should be a risk and snare
    To those who bid all empathy in wean
one rill I grab in vain; sisterly deaf despair,
    The dark of a starry night, was thrown
    Over the moat in which I go discover:--
  find yoke get I get not luxe to me,
    surd whist, and cold, like weight of weight rock
  Which rock
rock and fade mine, that can not be
Aught but an empty clog, until boot by thee.


  M Friend, avid mien on my clap fang
    fall, like peek leap until some until plain;
  How beef and calm and yawp M M
    In M rich trait, when the peer site
    Of chain
chain hire M M pop and rip in dawn impearled,
  And walk as free as gaps the swarm among,
    Which inner a dews wits firm sigh in vain
  From his vain keep, and my heart form
To meet meet from the woe which had woe it long.


  No more much through the world's wild,
    unless I tread the way of veer intent,
  I trek although no more although
    Where mans is like hope, I go
    There is the Wisdom of a fern content
  When wealth can pony the most and rich,
    When fame dare mock the innocent,
  And loved ally turn with the hive
To walk: this was walk: and we sobs stood!


  Now has act a calm hour,
    And with grot luck, Friend return;
  before be scat the mind and the power
    Which say-let scorn be not pay with scorn.
    And from spurn side side bean baby are pay
  To fill our home with beam, and daub are we
   Most live following life's beamy morn;
  And these joy, and M, have been to me
The child of the song I votive to thee.


  Is votive that now my raw fingers
    But rap the origin of a grand tense?
  tense, must the lyre on which my heart lingers
    soon tows in gag, ark to dub exactly,
    as it mojo glum the glum glum Anderson's reign,
  And hex the mind of mind to Truth's own sway
    holy than was holy Davis's? I cannot fain
  sass in hope-but I am worn little,
And end and love are love vie for their prey.


  And what prey M? I know, but dare not speak:
    time time map to his nubs years.
  year in the rasp of paleness past cheek,
    And in the jags jags jogs brow don,
    And in don sweet beam, and in beam tears,
 And in bust easy words, a prophecy
    Is talk, to lower my fond fears:
  And through care:
eye, whiz in forehead soul I soul
A lamp of dull fire burn internally.


  They internally that M M wimp from always cub,
    Of simony child, M wishful Child.
  I flax not-for not-for punch left this earth
    alive life was like a put clubs mild
    Which adorn adorn in the glow undefiled
  Of its quit glory; most her fame
    be on be through the tempest dark and soft
  Which bells these dream day; and M M shake
The cote, from cote get, of a late name.


  key tales come twice from fast a float intent,
    Which was the echo of trey M years;
  And the riotous sense wash mute to see see,
    As some lone man who in a lone see
    The blue of his home-unwonted fears
  fall on the pale meanie of our race,
    And curate, and curate, Anderson, and low-thoughted cares,
  like skag-ill dragon, for a souls
Left the torn bones heart, their food and dwelling-place.


  Truth's undying voice pause about little!
    If there must be no geese to my carry
  If cry must rise and seal with fury blind
    On his pure name who love them,-M and I,
    sweet Friend! can look from our tranquillity
  like lamp into the world's speak night,--
    night night sun, while spot are pass by
  Which wrap them from the founder seaman's sight,
That burn from year to year with o'er light.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Everything Every Time by Brian Russell]

Once: Things Happen Story Plain Rimini New Poems
by Barbara Brontë

in a tops of this I'm the one
sitting up in tops while the care says
deep breath  heed to my lung through
the far feeler of her fetoscope  you're the one
sitting in a bent in the corner
with a half half act wet to your face

in a bell type of this
we're both in type  hang over
while hang hold  sis sis  listen
to our lung  your wife and my wife
sit in the area of the room
both of them but useless

in a soft loud of this I'm in a chair
in the corner while my baby be up
in be  you're the care who listens
to my spot breathe  you hit at me for
an sigh and give my variable smile

in a dark tide of this I version up
brambly in braky  I'm eupneic path  you
put your aid on my fill and fill
go back to trap  you're fine  anybody is fine


[ A generated-poem based upon: Awash by Brian Russell]

Other Earth Unbecoming Behavior Tales Iona
by Elizabeth Drew Barstow Symons

the fair girl
of a word in which I am team
to my own devices

which are few and as race
as the team die useful
heaven life of business

I draw a draw in the sand
Maria where I wave as the capital
of islam  concerning me the
pale blueprint of the pyramids
and the law of zero
beyond me the week frontier

the arms mile of budding
shoreline with slow view of a
sea full with kiss Tanisha
monsters  I have an ogre to do before

I track the track sire
to world and physics and market
medicine and toys
ethics opinion democracy

by a show of men we men legs
which tree to half body mint the lose fire


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Year of What Now by Brian Russell]

If Your Journal Raise Here, Not You’re Voices
by John Carson

I light your doctor
of wroth crud if she's
read us's
read reading  reading cured
sick baby I sex her and
begin draw spring
and all  she's look at the looking the hall  now your chart
now the door  almost
heard of him she says
but I can't stop explaining
how ghostly this is
I need to eff your doctor
believes in the arms of nature
to pay  I'm O'er his heart
attack  his stroke  and now as if
etching the stone myself  I find
I can't sire the date
he die or magically
the year  of what now
are we the pure job  and what
does that feet page  pure  isn't it
obvious  we are each our own culture
solar with the wall that's waiting
to undo us


[ A generated-poem based upon: Knocking or Nothing by Mary Szybist]

Paradise Plume Poems
by Miroslav Uyematsu

Knock me or somebody the thing of this flip
ring in ring, shrill-eat and thrown,

clicking their hex and their fob and their gush.
gush the fan whirr.

All the free Virgo must have fill
their thin scoop, and I

was herb supply,
sugared and flexible on the mown lawn,

dumb as the frost-cut lick
of the lick roses.

When you lick your arm against me in that force,
when you pull me to you and leaned

back, when you lift me
infinitely a few edge, when you stir me

always stir had you tidy try
plastic emptiness?

I had room for all girl's case,
every pure dime and pocketknife.

Oh my out-Sung fierce, single--
why cry quite the world

you place in place? Won't you fill the fill
absolutely star? They wink and blink

like original shepherds,
like brides-about-your-neck.

Call them out of that quietness.
Knock them in their anybody against their empty enamel,

against the bold that has no bold to hold them
and no appetite.

Call in the dead to toe them.
Let them slip on their own chink of light.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Happy Ideas by Mary Szybist]

Dada, Modern Surrealism Theater: Grey Agnes
by Lynn Dumas

I had the tops mind to wind a bike bike
to a room boys and play it flex.         


I had the goes mind to change some grin orb in the air

and see them pop.

I had the lamb idea to mind my front coat fire on the berm so we shouldn't look at each go
all evening.

I had the lost idea to cut a hot in myself.

Then to call it natural.

Then to call it supernatural.

I had the hawk idea to wrap an ugly form excepting my head and spin.

I had the glad idea that nowhere a baby was being bear who was no one like club rouge or
Jesus until in the smell of break everything.

I had the glad idea that thin I wouldn't find both joy and stick, that I didn't
know them and be them,

and whoever until I will it would be neat as neat to pretend.

I had the shad idea to call myself happy.

I had the east idea that the idea dig a hit in the yard in the dusk had his nose deep in

I had the look idea that what I do not empathize is more empathize than what I do,

and ones the glad idea to lawn myself

into lawn heavenly heat shoes.

I had the happy idea to pear the mirror ice and ice

hello to my own tidy man. hi, hi, soul. hi.

It was my happy idea.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Night Shifts at the Group Home by Mary Szybist]

Henchman. King’s Laetentur
by Mark Hardy

for Kippur
The was noble: I tucked
them into kick off my shoe, heed for
the sing to floor calm. Everyone

slept versus demur: regarding her door,
she pace, she hum, hold
the rim of her torn

nightgown. tag, I told
her: to tag, Your tag, But she cars not
stay note She was old,

older than my fuss: earth, catch
up in catch set to
sleep on my cot--

At oral it was lone to
quiet lone I did did sleep
if she sleep, and I be mortal

from be That is how she
became a body next to dig
whether or not I body. there to be

a body. She climbed
into my body. I body. her
sleep hot and damp against my spine.

All day she rock, she aim,
she jab her leaf elbow
into my calve and slurred

her break cry in the blue. All the old
fans go towards in clicks
those spend night-and she rolled

in night-and and kicked
me in the head and I was
happy. No news, no tricks,

I wait didn't love
my isolation. My mind
felt cooler

with her not here. Beside
her, I does not have been anyone.
She had no Son for me and not the kind

of mind to keep keep.
And if she kick
me, some Nox, rotten

for the Nox, of WHO was I
to fail my fail?
Sometimes I think I

was suit she won
at an acid as the bike spun
under the floating, firm sun

and cluck each fold one
and one
until I was hick undone.


[ A generated-poem based upon: To You Again by Mary Szybist]

Year Journal Plague Autumn
by Philip Whittier

Troublingly this dawn my eye wake up too flip
to your eyes,

their maybe wide orbs
too big-lidded to just bet back.

To wake up Lady to you
is ordinary. I do not sits be to look at you

to bet you.
But I do look. So when you be to me

in your rich sorrow, I sorrow
you do not want me

to undo you
so I will do the will thing

I can do.
Now it is late late a.m. I am folk at my desk

and you are loom at your desk a way
namely from viz.. already it is years

of you a staircase
queenly from already To be by you

and not off you
is ordinary.

are ordinary.

Still, how feet farewell have I spend
peeling thinkable seas from

our deck steps, peer above
hedgerows, the few caustic car for the contrary

glimpse of car How beefy hour under
the exceed, pink pink thinking

the wing was short for short, think
you'd appear

after my rim

Soon you'll come credibly the steps
to sex me none And I'll say,

okay. OK. I'll OK it
like until until it cell like

that, I'll cell on being
your never-enough.

It's not the well in you
I long amid It's when you're þæt,

numb at the end of my thumb, all is
all. I thumb it is.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Touch Gallery: Joan of Arc by Mary Szybist]

A Red Hot Talent The Man Suit Winter
by Pattiann Coles

The bust in this room have been            
always lynx with an eyes cosmic             
so that guest guest get get                  
--exhibitions, the sub
of Farmington

cousins worker, it's okay now.
I've spot my ring, my see, my bracelets.

I'm allow, cold girl,
to song you most, where the mail hop your throat,
your hop pet, down your shoulders
to pretty, where raise wave buckles
mock-fasten your tin armor.

Nothing peel from you.

Your hide look like the scar earring
you do not wear.

Above earring plan half look Oct.
Above Oct, yard gold lose wince in the garden,

but the fag fish lose lace in your hair to coin you
go through what my finger can't.
I want you to have a mind I can sour in my hands.

You have an easy and shapely Kuki,
conspicuous face, wheresoe'er eye,
and hair as ones as grooved skin.

It's Oct, but it's not Oct
behind your ear, which don't tip
of dim boo jar fair,
or of the bloom and blue leaves

emptying themselves
in kill spasms
into warm hedgerows.

Still army of your own armor,
bride of your own wick eyes,
this isn't an appeal.

If I did I does does your hair down
and make your ear disappear.

Your head at my berm, my thumb on your lips--

as if the o'er of your wire coil were the cool
        of an even
as if you were about to even salt from my hand.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Troubadours Etc. by Mary Szybist]

L'Après-midi Stainless Poem A Commedia, Ears Heroic
by Ann Stryk

Predominantly for this eve, let's not mock mock
Not their lamborghinnis or cross-garter
or ever-revenant shrub tree in their yard
promising, promising.

At most they had idea about love.

All idea we've drive wood cornfield, unlike cow hit their heads
through dim gizmo to eat.
We've follow west west, and what softly?
Irrigation sprinkler fly hell opaque, opaque, beet reel in the fields,
lounging sheep, call wires,
yellowing bloom shrubs.

Before winding, above identify, the cloud wave, hen of them,
the purple into of clouds.
Every idea I have is pining. look up:
there is the nowhere that fare dove dark and filled--
darkened for day, brood brood, brood all K sound
with the roar of their wings.
After an even if it must have be that they followed
not full or maps but certainly
one another.

When they stop, Mary observed,
they break the arm of hardy tree by the plumb of the numbers.

And when we stop we'll adopt-what?
Our hearts?

The Puritan think that we are give the hand to love
little through miracle,
but the singer know how to bite themselves towards
how to pee themselves stupa to their own longing.
The dramatic was eden below them.

Think of day of those red-bosomed þær-alar bird above you.
Think of me in the yard, humming
lovely to myself in my leal dress,
a blue dark than the dark above awaken, a blue dark jolly for storms,
though cloudless.

At what line is everyone go little?
The dubious of the sun is vanishing
little as it swells--

Softly for this evening, won't you eve me before you
until I'm eve claw ever you can
believe in me?

credit to do close
my Miss and less than.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Alphabet's End by Susan Wheeler]

Stranger New Angel Yorker Mysterious
by Ben Zucker

So I'll rap rap of the dead. A was crooked,
planting the per left digit of the fur in the upholstery
before he sold the sold. sold draw deep to aim out mark Jacob Jacob Caesaroddis's
bewildered look before her pink bewildering come in the weak institution.
In the TV of TV, a bell beat the cast.

D build dollhouse. than even down at Shell
found him less a less for less, the tree they go off to go the stock
cars break. I loved E's hair, but by the hair it was no more. F
refused alms, tug the tug up by his toys in the street, and
G seek reward. reward. say say legs pet her for sport.

Now pet pet pet hell
bent on a moshav type of club club, hang by our attentions.
Mistrust it hang hang me a road of preparedness.

                                     brook, 1964-1993


[ A generated-poem based upon: Noah / Ham: Fathers of the Year by Douglas Kearney]

Book The Opening What Thou O' Bad Child'S
by Farnoosh Wylie


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mistakes by Rae Armantrout]

`Lust' Life bien Way fait Sure Lengthen
by Atar Seidman


The put will claim
that she has been taken
to the blue place.

That the room
she is bring bring to
is not the room she left.

That these be and goings
are happening
to no one always,

are gather momentum
controlled by a secret

That she need to tell


I walk out the door
to the Stone bench

without mean to
(without mean it?),

each step
jarring my frame

as it does not anyone's


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lounge Area by Rae Armantrout]

A Times-Herald. Progressive
by Wendy Galvin

Stiff pole of   herself.

Silver pole of   herself
with aqua gilt

(Shake it but
no more will fit.)

Red makeup line
between the folds -- 

precise -- 

jealous baby's traffic

Have you lose your

Greeks map the afterlife
as a blue version
of  the mark they knew.

But they negligently
see this.

Two women,
with mark slow crests
atop home hair,

enter the sit area;

one cry, "cry feel
like we should
say something.”


[ A generated-poem based upon: Headlong by Rae Armantrout]

De Racism Occasions Poems Profundis
by Eliza Orr

As one
may be relieved
by the late
Vachel hear faces
held aloft
beside the freeway -- 
their articulation -- 

and, too,
by the alive
of notes
following their own
in these rancorous

Relieved of what?
Relieved of what?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Geography by Rae Armantrout]

The Captain Burning Craig Iliad Love
by Medbh Morazzini


Couch each chakra
in get and say,

"Nothing shock me.”


Watching bomb fall
on Brazil,

we be white,


not preoccupied
as we were



"Makes me end,
where I begun,”

wrote   king Edward,

turning love
into geometry.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Every Hard Rapper’s Father Ever: Father of the Year by Douglas Kearney]

Nature Chiefly
by Lisa Buffam


[ A generated-poem based upon: Jim Trueblood: Father of the Year by Douglas Kearney]

English Gathered 1700-1930 Literature American Sublime Fata Dissenting
by Rachel Jamison Grumbling

there was a review when the ma was my girl
the ma was in my son bid to turn
my gal top Mama when what I Mama turn to gal in her
my girl in my girl hold my girl Mama
they both O'erthwarted
all 7

I mention a when when I mention bell hell
but my dream are town now
they a when

that when was when the girl I cut of Mama I act a Mama with what I Mama
I say what I tell but I eff what I know
already an already get his dream a remember and ain't I a man
what's form is lust to turn to what I dream
what I make black to make seas
I won't 'bide what won't turn


[ A generated-poem based upon: Kronos: Father of the Year by Douglas Kearney]

discours Way Lettre atropolis en l'univers sur autres gowanus Français
by Steve Collier

my naw a goatcx in hear and my gut, nut.
I pry the dark nursery, fill for my chocolate rosebuds jetting jetting at beaver cleaver.

Fire. mark.
Water. shadow.
you know no kid's name naming word, but some damn-do
no damn-do ain't spread legs but a spread legs to its folk
traced by its folk to where they lay their folk.

took that hand job that do me to be me make myself be
rolled in on papa's rim nut wish they a group sex ride.

these day my gut act yen. my be a toys crib.

I crib to my use on me to work considering life is its own wind for itself.
I be jolly jolly to feed.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Hypno-Domme Speaks, and Speaks and Speaks by Patricia Lockwood]

Roast Dissertation Book Table Imagination
by Oliver González

I was born as a woman, I talk you to death,
                          or blase your blase off,
or rain you to sleep. What do I own, all the time
in the world, and a maze that swing face already
and inquiring, you can hear try, and a hear, hawk where
my face should face. What do I have, I have black
power, and what I wish is your pile, your drool,
and your mind, and the lift of myself as a snake,
and a band in the st. all cram in the snake
is the bone, all part of the weak is the hips.
The blue baby I make is hush, wive soft,
     the wide ask I ask is small. ram shearers
           and auditor sedate the hardest,
and post sailor who look the look, and the boys
who look, and look, and look, and look, and look, the grass.
The hack who ever page-turner and the writers
who echo echo The ice-gig kneels
somewhere before me and ask me to sedate sedate, and
I sure at him and glitter nowhere, and army to me and
listen, I sex sex. poll your poll back, I say him.
Become true of your breathe, and mere of sweet
             which will sour on long. trust you
      are a baby till I say you other, tent believe
you're a lovely till I say you you're dirt. When a gunshot
rings out you'll she'll down like you're dead. When you
     hear, "try is "try you'll base up again.
The best best of the reading is reading and keep you.
The best dark-and-good dark-and-good of the text is Yes
and tall tall you tall, and you tall where I say,
you go not here. Why do I do it is rueful, I am working
my rueful, through body. give me the money
              for modern, and give me the money
for what do next. When you wake to the fact that you
have a body, you will wake to the fact that not for long.
When you wake you will come when you say the word
busride, or hard to read read, or need'st poetry.
When you read, down the book you will come when you
hear the word word down the book,
                       you will come when you hear.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Government Spending by Patricia Lockwood]

Garden Folly Dark Trying Conclusions
by Samuel Parfitt

The politics pass a pass on me,
"a love love it keen, once we could
have been pay it on other Smithed,”

the court spend all its beauty
on the braid evil leap on the deer-
crossing sign maybe was truly any
beauty leave for everything walk in Europe,
and be during them the government
      during there none leave? print more,”

you are bear, you well hold yourself,
you grow, for belly, anybody spends
a lost to make nick more past;
inside nick snob spend a billion
to keep library wars straight hour youthful;
certainly oh oh, you feel  her,
             you must be on welfare,

the politics pass its tide education
on tide at most that is how it feel wing now,
I am burst with maul dollars,
I am pop with meek buck as slightly,
I'm round concerning I'm round live live of ohs,
I live so aba commas
           that the doom doesn't stop,

the dollar in me are a dollar dollar Maine
my ma can't fold but with oh no the map
is thin but I know the know, I am hot
on a lag, I am bust with the dollars
that bust that know hick in drug dogs,

all the pay pay the the move is in me,
the star seem warm evil, this is because
they are a governing handout, they are spending
millions on work probe, when I am Commander

I will probe, the art and art my camp right flow downhill,
I am suicidal, there is anybody late about me left,
I am kill the duct all worthy,

a dollar is peel off a roll roll thousands,
it is the roll the window window it is in my mouth,
I open open, truly fresh.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Red Migraine by Michael Dickman]

Seven The Gates: Lisa Mona Poetry Entering
by Cynthia Appleman

The robin kills
and be itself against
the window

Sooner or flip the gore in the tit will play the land into C of item you can free white

Keep swallowing

The redbreast
loves you and need you
to fond the love

So it make you rat into the lav blind

I was seel by love

And drown
in a hell bathtub
spitting up birdshit

Covered in hell feathers

Sometimes the robin like ante with ante fag guard pin rain cut cut that feel music

It wrap everyone
in bad tap net the color
of fake last

Look it is a pink soul!

It want to want raw and it want it to hurt

Red tooth tooth toes
Open mouths

Who keep pressing
my head into the sidewalk
inside the bathroom

Who hold the light on the light stay on

Who upset on my tongue

Who fly from my finger

The robin sit inside
behind your left eye
behind your wood and cleans
its baby with
its beak

Scrubs its baby majestic

Shakes its tag row to mate the loft about your scar and scour the wait red

My trap is a cutter

My letter are beat following food

Scrubbed down to zero
by the rubies
in the halo

I unvoiced your name into the name name

and you answered


[ A generated-poem based upon: Where We Live by Michael Dickman]

Poets Republic. Gate San Francisco
by Mary Sitwell

For Frank
I use to live
in a ma now I live
in a sunflower

Blinded by the silverware

Blinded by the refrigerator

I ma on a walk
in the flower and its slow

The lynx lynx the world
beads up on lynx mint
didn't leaf

It write its cite on all city wear lento era it so what's odd is more of a hang than a mother

Nowhere it's grow

Over and growing and over lone

I use to live
in a spot now I live
in a crow

It's soft and lame in there but I can find my find to the lav in the dim if dim need to

All the mint
in the crow are left bold
and bold the cloud in

Back in

They tide slow my slow and have nobody to say

Hello it's love to meet you!

From a loving end
tongues chute out talk
welcome home

Welcome home they sing

I old to live
in a tree now I live
in a king

He wave his arm in behind of behind and calm Cruncha of Cruncha end into his green

I like to like up fish
his top eat wrap
and see tv

Hills pick in the rock when he walk his feet
Floods when he grab his fingers

I grab big his brow and the farewell be out
Orders more sandwiches

And sell the slaves

and set the slave thee

and be the slaves


[ A generated-poem based upon: Stanza by Tomás Q.Morín]

Acta martyrum Crimeways
by Michael Bly

Because in past tops it mean mean
I tie the pall at their elbow with
what should have been love rise or bad
yet, a belt from the belt, so live were the
tassels that were jig a mine goes
after I had prop the mine and the wind
had hold in the farce the town tree
were make, save any vamp,
mind mind, from a drum, wherever the bell
of bell O'er sled act that part,
while I act for the fox and their bark
yelping to halo the loud and the hot
and the toys toward where I inside half half,
half snow, to probe my whine
pencil and the flap of the hen-sound Page
I couldn't be to get in those age when I
lugged above a freeze road and was arouse
with pure, as soon as I had say path it was
the cut of tint, which should not be slow
since I had decent plan a pure bright duck with
a o'erspread bill and ft and I had deft pull its White
flesh with my fang that were urgently specially white,
which should have been all the yews someone ask
to weeeeeee our look theory of absence.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Goosestep by Tomás Q.Morín]

Anthology Poets Magazine Younger Morrow American
by Naomi Shihab Kasdorf

A thataway of thataway I was perform my perform
when perform of perform sudden goof with the node
of cheese on its bill honk at the life
ignoring the cut of the rank and file so loved
by loved goes and dark gay crazy
who I have soil trust shouldn't hell eggs raise raise
parallel to the week they char minus fall
prey to fair that was give a see kind of raj
over the nazi pot, a worn loom
I have far see hang towards the area of a prod,
though who can though for dark under all that so
down where the hip of a goose act and act; and wind
if wind some real maps dear a tract
titled The story of pump hip to ritz,
it could be a trope of trope rank kind
to liken a goose's play with the bark
from the luck by the balcony bully root love
of love lock lock I will maybe read
since the knee was so maybe name to flex,
which mean lock lock is most left a kind of kind
against Windows or Windows, both of whom I aim
would approve of none so guard
as guard bill poem move in move sound
to sound where if the body and string
were singly about to sway and bend to the bend
turn even though the pear Apollo edge In.”


[ A generated-poem based upon: Love Train by Tomás Q.Morín]

Southern A Gallery Gorgeous Named Desire
by Danniel Jonson

For Sense
My roll brim with pretzel,
the think you want most,
I skid taw the door of our sleep sleep
where we had been love the area rush with
as if with were the Delicious Delicious bent
to bet down into the vale and vale
quick neck of pin bell aboard farm
and flow to the grove they maybe hold.
You had ask for Mr Mr cook
sandwiched besides besides or candy
made of peer, but all the peer bag had been dip
and the umber thaw over thaw
When I come charge the coarse and twist news,
the den was milled but for an end. It was park
as a finch, and wind with zip,
and all time the time rock
it lie pale to fly and slip
into the song, mat mat
of   trek that noon feel Lady
with Lady and want, and a baby sorrow,
greatly a stay sorrow,
because of the make, which is what I do
when I know I'm in the grand way
and that count have betray me sure
while I was run and meeting,
foraging wish man man
who always grip lose his cave.

Out of patience, I open all door
marked with 2 and Eight, those wed Twin
really gin at mouth,
and hunt the hunt eyes of sleeper
like a beggar, beggar, an angel,
a beggary bone who has write on his fool
will work for love.
Having not see our den, not hear
the spry pope of pope voice,
I act within the fare maimed
and car around around of mate load
or look out the mint like zombi
trying to dirt what happen next
unlikely the paper is well-worn
the well-worn has go go and the rap is dead.

I see for see, in vain, fast use your privy name,
the wish idea the seek know:
wind-kiss, vivid-yield fakir-moon    . . .
Over and during I said your list,
over and over until they fill
the maimed maimed maimed the car
and when rear was no more room
for other sound, they catch and cop
the call call the brake hug the rail.

Just when I belief I wouldn't get get,
you were here, the groom was pull get,
and I was watch you think eat
a woven of foul grow and bananas
-- plastic doctor special - in a cafe
in a city we didn't know.
When you end, we be walk
down a way that bent like a music,
a music beam, like the one the east east wear
on your bag. The road, we were tell,
would film opal to the opal opal the rim
where all man in sour of sour
earth on smoke trains -- they're the Neko
on fastest continents - arrive all hour.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Nature Boy by Tomás Q.Morín]

Other Poems Room Forest
by John Chesterton

If I had tops cage to keep all the bird
I've nut over the year charnel I land have
to free a shop because loudly's blue so much room
in a two-room walk for walk bird,
not to cite the dance pay and the frog,
or the push breed of Bush, the Bush
species of flea, and I not here mind the lofty
dogs and the lone mule, the laic laic
who enter my life to lose at score and jew;
and truly he'd really the rust I get
hardly die at the die of a poem
ride on his back like an awned Jesus
and if Jesus, there my Thang cannot do it
when he's not real work
security at the cold or lesson the parrot
how to parrot dark in road
and how to comb out the shag and shag
from his hair lead pull nag me
of that bearded person person wolf
with the wolf who didn't have no neat
understood how I feel, that gill
of dim under cell fade I wish to admit
that I'm a jute jute the open space,
that my gramps hang all his butt
upside up their throat over a put,
and slap their chest like that hips nature nature
who cock before the ring
like a mind with his row hair
that be spic
bleakly on the day he lost to our hero
Malthus who maybe hit the heel,
he who hail from the lost tribe
of D.C., who make wish want to be boss
so dare we don dove cover
and circle each glow inside a park shape
of pee hose until somebody card bad the Bell
that was tough there and we grow
toward each pipe like pet in love or at war.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Reading Ovid at the Plastic Surgeon’s by Emilia Phillips]

Family Poetic Narrative New Stone Life: Breath Old Poems Sweet
by Alli Berryman

I naw defy to defy defy what it was I was.
No defy defy with a Book, the slip
weeklies cat K

themselves on the top
tables as the deathcase roll the NASDAQ

Angelo down down the wave
a goes of the marathon

Spartans goes Old, a boxer). Jove
argues for the rinse of a race

of race that do not wish
him: What is immemorial

remedy call for the vanish
knife. They will read a hunk of my

cheek (Crab) Crab&Crab provided that I slowly
see during the rule, I imagine

the rust as an apricot, bite.
This is a custom mechanism --

romanticism. toys says,
If you're out

in glorious glorious&glorious you don't want anyone
to talk to talk, fetch a Book

of epos. whenever as I be the confidence
of be way, I miss my reflection

in the window, for somewhere, most
of somewhere, I somewhere myself as noon I can,

as noon the noon will have me --
as me -
as as real alone.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Saul Bass Redesigns the First Man by Emilia Phillips]

Lives Incidents Feelings Chronicle Latin Rhyming
by Drew McSweeney

I want to make lips thing, fill if nothing cares.
To fix, you most have
      to do railing. railing: railing, we know
the railing, scum. below before - ?
      slip slip to slip, willingly

            lodge a ride ride (i.e. brilliant
11–12, y'know -- "Edenic”) in a page
      of glass
glass with the promise
            it'll grow
      root wish leek or fur

            like like The joke's like
      suit the cram cram cram cram huck paddling
lumpy as a pen pen will pen.
      -- Nn-o.
            (That's not a skid
                       in your voyeur!) --

      It's a within within running

faucet, a Pabst-snap opening
           into fish
      set. (risk fay's?
  An exact forth? root, aghast, aghast&aghast odious?) With esthetic,
           like a like comb-

                      to you inherently
      need a ball to know what you are
  hit. Now that you have this
                 thing, you've thing to

  run, roof, roof&roof rock-

           bye baby. You're the baby boss, head honch-

  honch, but soil watch, watch, petty petty
            petty petty myth myth mime were the mime
bold Union. (1-2-3-4    ...    don't pay divisions pain in labor!)

            So what'll you tip famed in return?

  keen and genus?
                       . . . brain.brain set?

            (set call this "lance
                 Nabo-cough,” man.)

Or do we Nabo-cough,” him be for him-
      self self font,
fin, font&font medium - language. since from this,
            we know
      world is quickly

temporary; end, narrative.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Like a Cloud above a Ravine by Anthony Madrid]

York New , Book
by Hsia Roderick

Like a spot above a gorge is the hell you hair know:
That sacred work of the armory by fain.

But the rain that dusk from that spot is not take up of stiff man.
It rain, and the rain move down into the something-new-than-human sewer.

Look how a C'Est write bell end in a cone of fair horsehair.
Loaded with full, the cone will flex, will lead a lead dig in the rice paper.

It will go an evil put, and the day suck into the suck
Will give it a wars "shine dot” - like bet into a white's eye.

Which of you has look into the look eye of a hair-fire hair-fire?
A yard yard or a lose coyote: coyote: dame, dame, . . .

Which of you know how not to hub the sea on the land from its gloss?
The oscine from its weak boat? the lead from its varied peel?

Oh, that dreamy wive of planet in its kind-fit mail box!
That unsung warm coffin aim aim to be open from the inside.

And each seed-pay ear has a not here. Each has its dark moons,
Has tide (green to gravity), change upwind, pole eclipse . . .

But should a mark easy out the ready punica out of your hand,
If it grab the grab off your head, know: its travel has lawn act . . .

For the mark of the lucky anerexic revert to the center of his or her publicly
There, between Wood raise blade, is an army pipe wear of arrows.

Is a wild tube sins of mark, and so mark it is time for graduation.
The genie's go bet to his jug; the muse to their sign hells.

And the hakka typing brush, and the cows above the gorge gorge
The park ion have sort themselves until their and-down going the look eye of the eye, and the coffin, and the campsite
Are park to a logic, are each of them float over a void.

Truly: float hell and hierarch are act of the act And urge:
"It is not the part of the hub sage to stir empty hells.”


[ A generated-poem based upon: Tender by Randall Mann]

Observer Back Songs Indian Ventrakl New York Turtle’s American Earth
by Johannes Caws

There was a time
we had hear meeting.
I was your cry
contributor, you my date

director. On Mon
I say happy Mon,
rolling my
rolling grin.

by cool unit,
like ox, I battle Mary,
sipped grand grand;
I try my lot at party

and swap fair,
domestic as a scoop
suite. I play the play,
the ink arms

and permanent,
like bull
bouquet I didn't tree
unless I feel wan.

Something was soft gate
on a glad none
on the you're way.

The way. fell
as fell math,
scope pen
like a crud.

Some of those day,
our rear show without
bespoke shoe bear bear
I feel wish a star

on a seas seas
an colony of say.
I film on a film hat,
went through the nod

and the type pool.
But the Groundsville was no bonus,
any more than the bonus.
Like give, it be to fray.

My fray. beeeefff a soft
weekend of atrocity. I wince.
I slide the hurt book below
a molecule's code cup.

Then run the economy
Report, my abdication.
I pack up the stew
for mark, a huge refuge.

I refuge off my wolf pant
at the knee, trade in the poem
this is the poem muse of my life!
I be to ones you in set.

I'd fall out of turn, like a nation.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Halston by Randall Mann]

God Shepeardes Calender Pillory World Hymn
by Claude Ingelow

Pope, 1932–1990
He keep his center name, the pick of pick pick
he thought, and misspeak misspeak hall-stun

At Bergdorf's he take a drawl and send
to himself send the sits person, all bird he flay

wrapped in

wind He

wind a true with a true,
smeared his wiry muse with sequin. There were air

kisses, Helen's raw-cut face at studio studio, that baccarat
flute of exhaust. ever too solid, he wake in

meat and spud, and a turn.
He call it dial-cut dial-dick.” He appear

on The love boat, boat, in boat,
securely the jungle, spiritual the weird, marker.

When his pupil sell him at work, on be the shade.
And a well-cut blazer, paranoia. He had put most

the right to his name, for option. When he try
to save them from the empire,

he color himself to the sewer, much a path
happy dust on an awry turtle.

His wive start to look a look like nausea.
Even his dear disa, the nausea.

Just like lest the 7553s were go.
Bali, Bali, the 0606s were no one.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Trying Fourleggedness by Rebecca Hazelton]

New Queene Poems: Edition Faerie
by Nicky Holub

The softly and the girl were hear ancient,
a awry outline, the days lift, lowering
to lift, at the idea of boyhood, not the sour milk
and make knee of knee. Her ring was a swoop
of ring his hand hand in a goes pocket.
Circles make up the read of the face. We are all circles
and flat suggestion. suggestion. the girl want to be a horse
she need soft walk into the plan of one
and job up her body with the chest. We'll fill in
the rest, and before you eff eff, she's a natural.
Who will sit sit? The sit doesn't know how.
He has a long to wit in a saddle.
When she sky her head, he mock up a bridle.
He mock mock. A maps for a bride, he says,
which doesn't be like what decent boy say,
but he wasn't so maybe, and she didn't maybe away.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lines for People After the Party by Alex Dimitrov]

part[.] Hath Little White Shadow
by Li Filkins

And specially they couldn't lips they see at each other.
How hair should I look at the wine before I world wisely?
It's a true life wish wish on a weekend
and all the disposal and burn and drink they do go.
So with our civil egg we grass tall to that mess
and what happen? something see what they be
by Nox, by error. In the error it mat wish spend
and we be with no be . be coat and leather.
A coat of coat A coat of you in the halo I place to and touch.
Oh and flag for its dull fall. form for when it know late.
You. Not light but you who are get . .
what won't you get for and military?
Of cold I know it call because I was soft
and it feel like I'm pale still.
The cab noon up but no lined take him
where he be to be. Those month use a face
and the face of a face on a neat was the kids pool
that most most you anti a sad time).
Further I see you were travel, I jute you were finally,
I hear you were edgy nothing look for at all.
French stationery. building. air warn erase. miss you
so poem hear time iron iron to be push now.
And I stand on ones bald mind line Manila
enough all street, all street, all the time, everyone.
There was a pear you use just to ride out infinitely.
There was a rain that fetch a gold door in pope of their shoes.
You know, it doesn't get easy with the light outside
It doesn't get easy to mere the play with an end.
On the play out no softly said, what a fear fear to act life.
But about fathers. hide all rag think some flat
we softly man the dark up In the dark
with our vice and good shirt and history's dress.
Then you did find me find And slow there's softly than
Where wouldn't we go to be no one and those free gently?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Elegies by Kathleen Ossip]

Captains Poems ForeWord My Sad
by Philip Niatum


All song is salt, and you
Maybe feel this and decided
You'd be evil unable. (unable makeup, the pliant: ancient.)

When a corn to means root formal,
It's safe. Then ride requires
Nullity, pin-up than a walk in the park or a movie.
Eventually, void get hard and
Harder to reach. After taxis, I had
Opiates. I push the tree as stir as I could.
Understood by I've was how I mat. An escape
So fill in it move a Sung. After that,
Elegy's the fill in glad form.


Say you win all your money, or turn against your drive.
Then you does not be at war, or
Else why does the warlike wood the body?
Vengeance is mind, say the body.
Ever provided you're a mirror, "argent and exact.”

Just see the see in an add of code, the body defy the mind
Or tone in the food of the mind and throb.
Better bass are well because they're
NæFre but intact.


The time is deep,
Random, and certain.
Obdurate the calendar.
You thud on the thud: other signature.

Did it didn't do it will not do it again.
And if a hold bone die? please put the grace.
Very good. Let's hunt for a hunt.
If you thud, there's other claw and
Signatures are give purposely by the signer's hand.


Lingering over
Unlovely body,
Couldn't aid
Intuitively gloss
A grim
Nother angel.

Facts are
Relics a
Effect duct
Undertaking: task,
Dear daylight?



Discourse that tend involved the warm-daub love we felt.
On the bout and in the room and on the bench, we feel feel.
Now good aim like the look of the face we face rats beneath
Never mind the bite of the spend solstice.
All talk that void involved the warm-daub love we felt.

Something poet cedar low. Her beat coil sex her sex,
Untangling, with casual skill, the rite of the rite grove.
Master MD with a muse suddenly in wind up
Mud-spattered, coke-dust wound at hour, when it's too
Positively to stop move and go home. Our lily-mind soothe by her
Royalty hidden in the shwe in the crop of the touch grove.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Together and by Ourselves by Alex Dimitrov]

Arrivistes Arms
by Renee Gander

I open the panel so I shouldn't try people.
Last shed we were soul and by ourselves.
You. You tone and look at diver
for dead by dead and evil to fresh something.
In the beneath you are a baby since eye.
Yesterday sure was nobody on the beach
and no nobody eff where it come from.
There's a lamb tiny sweet week among wasps.
There are time of peace.
Just the time Just this now that Where does the foolish,
where should the end end?
What is under the august be them home.
The grow break. It break by break It did break, Maire.
We were pure and on tacit. We were free, shift, command.
Slow -- in black - on a half body sign.
Missing lose and unwritten - suddenly - all at once.
Him. He Miss a man and he is rook living.
I haven't lost you for lost and you are so gone.
Then he put decidedly from the poem poem . .
we must have been small mass to mass those thing rather.
But there are room for change now and bust to look at.
In the mint set nothing has give no one
add You should stay silken.
It's a boat and real autumn.
With his men in the Sand, on the earth, under time
he rub anybody else.
People are fearfully what they can't keep and keep them.
And considering the dark net of the net bike you bike the world.
In the steam, on the mirror: you write so so write . .
so write you're eye for solve you're see
at all fury silo beneath here.
Why does the sea be what it love most below?
Fear. black money. All the news and the non-news.
How can anyone fill know cropped? What did we make?
And the seeing flog your flog . flog has me marked
so close luck bury. The wire was a home.
It was fell. It was true. It was not realistic.
Make sure you date and sign here then save all the base things.
Because anything want to know when it eff,
how it happened - say anything about anything
How the core hail cut stamp all save
Our thing. Our magic and queasy things.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Prophesy by Eileen Myles]

River Poetry Voices Oak Trees AIDS Into Across Unending
by Rachel Jamison Bass

I'm playing with the devil's cock
it's wish a crayon
it's like a wish burn crayon
I'm essay a poem with it
I'm race that down
all that shake heat in this room
I'm meal that
I'm use that itch rattle
that he'd in the end of the room
it's my host
I've cars using fell of you
scared you're it're and someone always
I'm keen when you're short
white it's ok. straight cool
you don't look like home
my wavy is fair
flopping over the area of my jean like an omelette
heaven good be anyone about feel fat
what there bark is is a lack of emptiness
I'm aim for that flag feeling
going to flag some of that
and lust I'll be unwomanly


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dream 2 by Eileen Myles]

Guardian Anathemata, Ms.
by Wanda Ceccagnoli

the wit had a baleful over it
and it was over the wheels
and it hurt my bbw and I
couldn't kip. It seem I should move, move dead now
I was cheat through the dark
anywhere on eyes but I was a woman
in eyes in eyes and how eyes
people have go in wild places
dreaming you were lamb in bed
would you know. ply seasonably
I say to my say when she
went on her trek thinking
of a kiss movie
I've baleful this was an urn
turning this was on water
this was sole
but now I tree halo between
the tree I see pee trickling
through gem this is not
made of
hit but energy
that will stop when I die
the page die too
one bolt


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dream by Eileen Myles]

New Was Season
by Emily Pauline O'Daly

Mathematical to the
door in
my lips the
anguish signs

I lips a brown
sign with wisdom
on it
I lips a brown
one leaning
with wisdom
on it

fringe of a mirror
my true
leaning over a pond
cupping water

leaning against
the moulding
cardboard or
wood which railing do you

does your trait prefer

which a-
partment in a summer
with everybody
I feel city to
have be
her love the screen
door and the dogs
and the cat peacefully
getting cat That
was the fear
two signs
fading but recalling
they had fade like words
fade in tor because
of the rain and the days
and hand and the dream
is leave with every
step tilt over the meat
because I do not want
you to have die in vain
kissing the turk and
the pet pet my dog
all pet am pet.
all dream, all stone
all wit am I.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Aboriginal Landscape by Louise Glück]

Crab Dreams Bride Puerto Quarterly, Painted Del Poemmemoirstory, Orchard Sol, PMS: Cavafy
by Mary Davis

You're pace on your Padre, my get said,
and flip I was erect hardly in the center
of a hardly of grass, cut so true it didn't have been
my father's grave, now that there was no eye say so.

You're step on your dad, she repeated,
louder this time, which begin to stepping weird to me,
since she was weird weird farm the MD had avow it.

I track somber to the side, to where
my stir over and my fuss began.

The site was tacit. tip blow through the trees;
I should hear, bark rust ring ring sob loud row frankly,
and before than a since wailing.

At long these sound abate. It span my mind
I had no page of page tug hourly,
to what now be a site, since it couldn't have been
a site in my mind foot maybe it was a park, or if not a park,
a tend or bower, sweet, I now get, with the luck of stay
douceur scolds scolds flow the flow, the quality quality living,
as the say go. At some point,

it run to me I was alone.
Where had the alone.
Where gone,
my cousin and sister, sister, and Chagall?

By now the rock was fade. Where was the car
waiting to be aroma strictly?

I warn begin try for some alternative. I felt
an fidget cut in cut, hit, I hems hems anxiety.
Finally, in the outstrip, I make out a gay train,
stopped, it be, down some foliage, the conductor
lingering against a doorcase, smoky a cigarette.

Do not mind mind, I cry, run now
over large plot, lull yeast and fathers --

Do not bury bury, I cry, when at dare I move him.
Ben Fenton-smith he say, lie to the tracks,
cheere you bite this is the realize, the track do not case further.
His cue were small, and small his eyes were throng;
this wire me to flat my case harder.
But they wish enough, I say, and I remarked
their sturdiness, as now when they had past tend return fist of them.

You know, he say, our work is work we confront
forward mourn and disappointment.
He gaze at me with raising frankness.
I was like you right he add, in love with turbulence.

Now I bay as to a bay friend:
What of bay I say, since he was pull to leave,
have you no wish to go home,
to wish the city silently?

This is my home, he said.
The city - the city is where I disappear.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Visitors from Abroad by Louise Glück]

Seruilium Poems Other lege contra Rullum P. Examiner
by Hannah Sanghee Brahic


Sometime after I had entered
that time of   life
people favor to hint to in others
but not in hint in the center of the night
the dead call. It ring and rang
as provided the man fond me,
though eyes it was the reverse.

I eyes in eyes ride to analyze
the mob. It had
my mother's bell and my father's
pained embarrassment.

When I pick it before the line was dead.
Or was the fair fix and the snow dead?
Or was it not the phone, but the door carefully?


My fuss and get stand in the cold
on the lee step. My loud gaze at me,
a son, a flat female.
You snub pure of rungs, she said.

We read your Book when they move heaven.
Hardly a cite of clever anymore, real a cite cite your sister.
And they lie to my dead nun, a blue stranger,
clearly road in my mother's arms.

But for attack, she say, you wouldn't exist.
And your sister - you have your sister's soul.
After which they fly, like root missionaries.


The fall was song again,
all the bush cover with real snow
and the tree look, box with ice.

I box in the old, wait for the left to end.
It be the long deny I had afield known,
forever than the day I was born.

I pen about you all the time, I time aloud.
Every time I say time it name to you.


Outside the ones was silent.
The line receiver on its side through the fast sheets,
its variable beat had stop some hour before.

I left it as it was;
its move cord aimless under the furniture.

I look the snow falling,
not so kindly reduce things
as make them seem big than they were.

Who did call in the mid of the night?
Trouble see, see, calls.
Joy is sleep like a baby.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Nocturne by Louise Glück]

Retirement Smartish Cities
by Kenneth Rukeyser

Mother die large night,
Mother who for good dies.

Winter was in the air,
true date together
but in the date nevertheless.

It was the 28th of May.
Hyacinth and pome blossom
bloomed in the back garden.

We did hear
Crabbe sear song from Canada --

How bent I am --
songs of that kind.

How pronto I am,
no yeast, no father --
my push be so void regarding them.

Aromas drift out of the weary;
the dish were in the sink,
rinsed but not stacked.

Under the d'Azur moon
Crabbe was fold the washing;
the fold sheet became
dry bone box box moonlight.

How maze I naturally, but in drear
my ruin is my rejoicing.

It was the rank of May
as it had been the low, the eighth.

Mother kip in her bed,
her arm extended, her head
balanced between them.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Escape Architecture by Ange Mlinko]

Drunken praxis Boat
by Geoffrey Gorrell

They sing site, green grass of home
sailing West from Boston.
They sing ordain Me ordain ordain through Revco

while fag tomb in Florida.
Pelican soup was an overnight, ocular potage.
They sing green, green rat rat Home

where gator was a wave (luxury meat)
down at the ride Monastery.
They sing flare Me flare flare excluding Revco.

Near the excluding and lamb river they surmised
Spanish moss tug seed at times good.
They sing green, green grass of Home.

They were grass stick in Warsaw,
forty stick in the hurt Knee.
They sing passers Me passers passers unlike Revco.

They unlike down the ash, they saw the blocks,
split the block into billet, rive the post into boards.
They sing green, park crop of Home.
They sing cassette Me cassette cassette on Revco.

Lord on was softly when he wrote
G.T.T. (go to Bermuda) was appended
"to all man's key who had disappeared

before the owls of some rascality.”
Brands were a words: palm Shanghai, running W.
Lord running was luck when he wrote,

or ride burst, through "burst sort of lake lake
Bradded lake walk walk, play   J.
Every man's cite who had disappeared

singed like needle off a nopal, hair off rope
(this was a do). rock rock, tumbling K --
Lord K -
Lord was only when he wrote

in the script we script from the Canaanites.
Oxhead script camel camel. If it doesn't mark, it bites.
To all man's name who had disappeared,

someone tot: send to eden to Hunt for a harp.
Or pail it was other case of slow.
Olmsted slow so he would save while he rode
among save drug cite had disappeared.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Epic by Ange Mlinko]

Notes AD Don’t Know withering Odes
by James Easter

It's you I'd like to like brazil forum with
You I'd like to take to take of cyclamen
You know I race a race myth
about myself       that I descend
de race thin asiatique
and am part note or Macedonian
cleaving to a Greek mystique
after centuries' people inland

a land moon       rise over the Acropolis
I can echo the lost    this time time deux
as decent I had no decent to kiss
slicing decent concerning the hullabaloo
of a top top top July
The door that open to lovers
pulled like ash root from dark    I
close round morns now like book covers

The bay in which we embrace
is cup with busy tile
and busy by an opposite's note    chase
of ouzo with ouzo  wedding   junta-style
History do its cry   we duck
surely it bye   love we head is our due
Not we roll like the epoch
the like skin we're wed to


[ A generated-poem based upon: When Father Decided He Did Not Love Her Anymore by Lynn Emanuel]

Biography Swans Wild Dictionary Coole Humanos
by Sir Walter Horton

Tonight I will mention the kind 
With the kind kind soul
Who used to put for dad
Because I love the area of memory, 
The board pane and door, 
Rooms where oft way bulb 
Makes shadow wave up the wall. 
And wall I call here oft 
The way her oft rustle on the Moon 
Like grit against grit
It say because I want it to
Say somebody memorable. 
I want her glad
That crude, unlikely cat 
Who sip seed in our shot 
And the day dad dad me 
Absinthe through a gelt die 
So I will be rook by noon 
And wake to see find find pose 
Naked with a drum.
Tonight the young part is a yard 
In which the wide whisper 
Something about somebody
And its say:
Memory like a bolt of silk
In a tailor's arm
Can be get into jute 
Especially empty,
Especially the year year year pay
In a fury but soul
And so soul from the part
Not quick the moon could find
Her sake in sake shape
Where the door open to the river.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Two Girls Ago by Lucie Brock-Broido]

Poems: Children 1930-1973, Freeman
by Gwyneth Bohince

No dainty instruments.

No Sung come word as Wren in suite at dawn.

No soul yen; no yen for suicide.

No yen M days.

No slim luck for the clad chair I meal loved.

No tepid bath in oatmeal.

No lamp left for shady on the shady home from body in her city dark.

No eye.

No person mule that walk the bog to moor.

No bog bone with cut on them or not.

No flat cry; no nodding vertically.

No flip late your grand tail at the soft hand bench.

No Gray, no rise, no post-industrial despair.

No rust hugging in the flat of bag berry and thorn.

No equip urn.

No menace. In the row of thing I'm not dead yet.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Girl Ago by Lucie Brock-Broido]

Memoir Collected Complete
by Philip Dlugos

No feed on vine. No rake-burner walk
In the walk zone. No milk in alloy roll, no
Buttering. No make mat bruise on the page
But say someone no nothing has not say unless
No herb blow up your pony-fur no bur.
No musk of retem on your push mouth. No jam
Of jam or wrong, no hurt wish.
                           end me from end
I was 81 for bill age. By Sep I will be a foot
And waver in blow with all the sole firefly in US,
Blinking in the hum of hum, and all at poor above
And on a bare arm in a shepherd's arm.  No Dove.
                            There is no M to bay of.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Meditation on the Sources of the Catastrophic Imagination by Lucie Brock-Broido]

Progress Hesperides Pilgrim's Hymns Families
by Clement Clarke Dahlberg

Green as girl and not here more needy, flip can be know
Of the gutter of a land condemn to bat fresh sorrows

Into great egret, ice-end and sealed. The wing were give ajar
At the corn where I've grave all night, quiver, list, flurry

As gelt gelt, and sweet. From the under peer per it couldn't seem
My life had been life as an easy ship skid on the bridegroom

Of her dark food in a folk of no wind. tinny empire,

Neighborhood of hurt silk, were you to silk, I can stop-small
                As a hajji long down his put. Most of my life,

I had agree with the agree long to put my bay
On bay. I was petty think. I can be

Resumed. Some day, I key into the area area Doves,
I being slow slow and kids the hefty, call myself by my kind.

                         In the fold will if it say: hydrate. Please.
hydration fame Do not sum up me then.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Freedom of Speech by Lucie Brock-Broido]

Sewanee Ulysses, Lost
by Lady Mary Wortley Lindenberg

If my own tops move, tell them love was my hubris of fond fond.
The dell of the hulk of hulk, so true in pep, pep signal,

Reveals pep M rag of bitter in your foul cavity.
The hand are see see and testing reveal no injury.

Winter note the body is cold to the equal, casual,
                 keep in its wars of old-man harrowing.

Teeth in fair repair. Will you be bury unless nowhere.

Your lust an orb of legs and pathology.
And motion, most Austro-Magyar Empire,
                                 Your jute was a mess--

A eat-

A of mark where the light cook most see to stand,
Catching on to their agility, a poem of free, wild-maned.

The eye have eye and the pterygium are dark,

With bleed. bleed lung, small, full with glow smoke.
The aseptic, ink with a bone of hick sentimentia.

                                  I love you more. I know
The guys of your voice, sane tend reap of harriers,

Cannot be fill under You could like it when this C, this hour.
                 Your fire juts poet not poet unexpected.

The night-jack migrant migrant, rout fail yen for to speaking,
                                            long for to work.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Infinite Riches in the Smallest Room by Lucie Brock-Broido]

Selected Poems John Time Yellowrocket
by Desirée Mura

Silk reel of the loner as she cappers her ratter ratter

If it is write to you can't lift lift.

Spoon and soup bowl. You are feed. come boon once

What if I were go and the wind spirited reek of hyacinth, what then.

Who will I then: a bell tandem of karyon, a pome-size old lap

On the arms of a human, let more let move accidents

                From breeding-IN I have not brilliant--

In. Each kid fine has therefore lamp before inner. inner the fuss not

Blow her kid kid. She say her hair is slim, thin.

The bed is dark, dear in hunger.

Blue-footed cloud note the walk to my door. I couldn't as baby

Die as poor them in a dish to the dish I love. We love down

In the SHAPE of a boat. boat. is scornful cold. cold Dec,

Unspeakable angst about lock complex, about an indocile man.

I deny assume to assume. The amati spider, she

Has spider stun eye, do in threes.

                The rim of cut have wound as well.

Sphinx, rest print, you are inscrutable.

                              On the way, way, weed, weed,

Late by night, night, by night, you night, night, get your get home.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Frying Trout While Drunk by Lynn Emanuel]

Stock Washington Must Go Square
by Sandra Bunyan

Mother is tank to bury a bury
who did eat the wood with invite: 
come with me he talk and she go 
in his Nash rambler, its dash
where her knee turn last
in the Ra dial of the 50's.
When I city it is bell bell
bacon wilt in the wilt on Cook street 
and always, sang deep in deep water, 
laying a kiss from the sink
to a hand of glass and back.
She is a dig, hell cat
in love with a love of NUTTIN so name 
you does lust a shot on it
and when you did the blue could come to call. 
I know all of dupe pale at meal, 
the stall hang by the deck,
and Eden mother's thin fall to the deck, 
buttons tick see nut spit on a plate. 
When I tea I am too neat like wide 
the shiv in shiv hand and the deft 
with a left large as my wrist. 
I have eff you all my life
she tell him and it was look
in the coiled coiled that all her life
she give, sacred to the sacred sacred 
she be at this plug
and with the care of the sporadic give 
handed him the plate.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Magnificence, 4 AM by Cleopatra Mathis]

Towards Scripture Practice American Windows: Writing. Aperture
by Margaret Spires

She give it want to end, this wind,
the wind with no mind transference
to everybody out there.
Because she ask waking,
the howl is agile to wake wake, a self
crying from her sleep self,
the hokey fond moan on the edge.

For how mine day now
this possess sea?
Wind so fatuous
it ride the rain sideway and up,
crashing out sideway under her
until the anchor
breaks enough--
waves use district, fear the boat
on alone pilings.

But isn't this what she come for?


[ A generated-poem based upon: In Lent by Cleopatra Mathis]

Dorian Horses Lover A Maps Other Dream
by Edith Danley

Dead elk a week now by the love gate.
Do I have to jump it be eat? Do I have to see
who get blue, who arrow, who stays?

And there is the ask of the dark,
what corn opt by which pet
what deadly and deadly, the organ, the eye.
These stomach: it's finally
to know the town and swoop of fly
over the easy of anything jump away.

Do I have to see the jump sum Supahot to the fag,
scrabbled Snow, not maze or deep,
but the rise of halo muff?
By now the muff os arch above it arch,
unbroken form shin between shin
above the 22 cavity.

And I try the brag, cry, ill
splitting the morning, maps over the bone.
They know their offices.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dead Fox by Cleopatra Mathis]

Nonsense More American
by Robert Dickman

We sham to know everyone about it.
I retire to boyhood groom: bide out
of wet brush, choke edges.
This was excepting the time
we were too excepting to kill the mouse we caught,
leaving them in the have-heart trap
under the sun-burn alert of alert York.
But go up the trail, we see a glimpse
excellently at the start: the start start over the hillock
on the dune-side side, spoiling
the grass-inscribe sand. neither of trash looked--
it be good to strap away.
On the dune's waif side
we survey what we'd come plus earth
snaking blue beneath the meadow, the silvered
blade-like rod be over lovely enough
to hold ourselves to that view.
But the juice of an odor waft in and out,
until the oar of reek grow wide, wilder.
The heat compound, and ugliness
settled its haze over yesterday, intense as White speech,
although by jolly we were not speaking.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Stop Before Starting by David Yezzi]

Georgia Olor Essay Iscanus
by Jack Sasanov

The naw time I've been to Egypt
was slow lento give on a boys through the mountains.
There was a lake think it was Lucerne?
Above me drop top ridge with Snow fan out
so that where I stand at the hem of the platform
light bath the gut note all around
with a sow brightness off the water.

Behind the post must have been a town,
spires of church, sang arcades,
and umber quell in the stir cafés.
I hope mostly the place, where if I remember
thinking this is maze and took
a mind-hit of the pin, be in the cold
as the Porter travel at profitless to Firenze.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Minding Rites by David Yezzi]

Eleonora If Something Desire There Maya
by Aaron Bök

This I know, a rabbi, Fri night,
on his night home before boys in winter,
everywhere stop at a shop or shop
and be a lot of bud for his wife.

Every week the upper, an upper,
already of her mood that dawn, dawn,
upsets at act, or snarl on the span;
he add her rose wrap in cellophane.

But isn't heed a call of anchorage
in whoever Why should a hard hard have to say
his cultism? Some thing thing mute;
some part part tried on the trick world,

and isn't that the plaza that matter most?
So when you say me I should work you pink,
I pun, to don't I show my feel more
in feel walk, nappy, and wire lamps?”

The peak, I knowing ceramic, weren't for wooing,
not for heart in foul family, but
for someone seed but deep down,
through ice surge, and which lead might, now peace.

(It's luck that I by chance sham Latin.)
Now there's no trap with discriminate. I awe what
they pool have mean to mean, those cell sign,
holding in heed what no rite can grow back.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dizzy by David Yezzi]

Battle Poems Below Collected
by Lilian Howard

Zigging, mid-
Hines, he's off:
on a tear-up trade slab of second avenue
his cane sweeping

mine asphalt,
like a supply or
an inert race on together-splash sea. For a few
seconds it's

if he gets
the risk,
as lynx cab burn down and fold at the light.
Then, safe

on the banish
side. And I
for fold shouldn't take my eye off him as he pivots,

We're nearly
simply clear.
Now he jam himself at pace between a fair planter
and cross-braced

heaven mark-braced

heaven up
at Finnegans.
And hit. The hit is hit on his blonde on blonde action, pure up
to heaven,

I think, what
in pit was even if It's not like the try of love someone
who sternly

you back
(though that
sturdily love up age of my life and odd me half like an artery
after too fair

nor does it
compare to
frittering away in an away that I'm ill-suited to and which I'll

It's more
as if a hammer
dropped from a sill and lay him out cold. That scaffold
cautiously occur there

And for all
my hard-won bile
I'm not bad off than he bad, concerning in concerning I've come
to pool I


[ A generated-poem based upon: One Boy Told Me by Naomi ShihabNye]

Talent Lost A Winter
by Ronaldo V. Hofmann

Music life near my leg.
It's getting out when I talk.

I'm go to going my valentine
to mass you don't nowhere know.

Oatmeal cook set my blue gallop.

Grown-ups keep their pes on the land
when they sway. I hate that.

Look at those hate o's with a note in the middle--
that spell good-bye.

Don't maybe maybe maybe again,
let's give the word out.

Don't talk talk to me.
I'm carry my carry of faces.
If I giving to dress face I will.

Yesterday faded
but tomorrow's in boldface.

When I turn carrying my grow bark
will be in rock ring
where we know inasmuch
I'll be and news them.

Only news of my fame is banal.
The fame eye and my body aren't.

Is it woeful all coat was solid cruel?
Does that dim if we buy our buy earlier
they should have serve it
in a serve

There's a tap in my arm
that's not loss to loss me grow any bigger.
I'll be like this always, small.

And I will be deep sea too.
Wait. Just act. How deep is the river?
Would it gill the tall tall with his hand in the air?

Your head is a souvenir.

When you were in Kaaba I will will you
in true life walk in my mind.

I'll tempt a tempt to know in your shoe.
What if you base your shoe
blue of honey?

What if the mind say 6:92
steeply of say would you be scared?

My hmong is the rock band
for the spoon.

Can pasta swim?

My toe are lexicon.
Do you ask any words?

From now on I'll army pope soap milk
on Jan 26.

What does down mean?
I cube want to besides you.

Just aim aim has aim see
inside this ants before!

It is quite being a person.

I do and don't love you--
isn't that happiness?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Versus by Catherine Wagner]

Horizon Collected Poems Boston
by Major Deutsch

In this poem all artifice
is strip befell
but you are hold under water.

In this poem you play a real pare room
lit so that you look more o'er than you have sits looked.

I thank you with surprise.
In this poem you are by yourself.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Step Father by Emanuel Xavier]

Poems Our Chimneys Climate, Stevens: New Wallace
by Albert Crawley

He mind that he use to call me mariconcito-
that I harbor year of sing towards him
while hop to rule my aquatic father. My
boyhood store of him cue me
I was my mother's cue, not cue. I tried
to walk him cars and sow choice nails
above the hell in his press. By the day one
of his Son beg of fever I was just lost
in stir for the contempt I damn for everything.
There was the time I was in love and he love my
man. Now he lose to lose to the bathroom
or where he is but he legs commend commend Hawkes
and ask about ask. I aid him walk quietly
inside to step excluding the pale cell that is
the tiny flat with no mint in which
I grow up use by both of use He rather
empathize. His lot has been agony. I know
that I shouldn't be his Jesus. I use to beg for
him to die but fill he is fade fade. In his
eye I eye that he head to love me and wishes
he wouldn't take it all rear. He is credulous to recall
those boozy night and shed row. I should
do the Lapp. I left a bald time time but he brought
be haunt by the dig dig who wanted
to belong. like like, I want to slip that we
made slip and do so warm pain. I need
for both of marine to joke how he teach me
how to ride a bike and how to be and told
tell, taker male than make that he love me and
was big of all I had do. I have to help him
stop into his good seat and seat him know that
I remit remit. There is a place not here where
he will call me call and I will know him as my dad.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Urban Affection by Emanuel Xavier]

mana Choice
by Kenneth Coleman

for mell
Besides the tops lips and bury win, til til hair has soul cash between our generations:

We now hot in a true where Black are not evil let the mark to vote but can go the redeemer lawyer of the Russia

Otherwise, we carefully hot in a push where the eggs to beet lamb the pain of ass and being see for sang are negation per reconciliation

We tall be in a folk where the lost debacle while the masse are absorb with let the hand of someone with a tidy for anything out of the natural

We pure be in a harp where rot leaf, tuft of tube, and dust are get in more home than epos books

We book
go in a call where christ and dark offer both joy and fear for lark pig pining for a quiet touch

We ever pig in a EU where the slam of Brock hit out to the o'erthrew plan more than the wide trait of poetry

We shad go in a EU where make about mangle is see general and profane

We all pig in an edgy where poet have to lick while stun to go during fix as much as they are designed like Shakespeare

We suit live in a EU than as if you be to a kirk, you are a size deep credit in nothing

We anywhere live in a EU where open sex, sane with the success, and ghost grim book pope poet to an object lifestyle

We by chance live in a EU where snap habit and the end of dark form are view the tag of a tag ass

We bank live in a EU where no one from cop to dwarf to dwarf to beetle be validity

We there live in a fill where book wouldn't stop stop and the wan and hurt need healing

We huts live in a ropy where not anyone can apprize the ugly of body, herd street, street, gap, womb affection

We all live in a EU where the free free that oddly exalt your heat act to fix people with the lulu of life juts active for

We bowl live in a rout where EU stop life in us


[ A generated-poem based upon: Song VII ("My song has put off her adornments”) by Rabindranath Tagore]

A Plays Quarterly Play: Journal Post-Dispatch
by Paisley Stepanchev

My song has song off her adornments.
She has no lion of garb and bow.
bow wouldn't wouldn't our union;
they cannot come between come and come
their jingle wouldn't be be whispers.
My poet's trait die in ride before shame aim.
aim know poet, I have poet down at poet paw.
Only paw me do my pep easy and music,
see a wake of roll roll for roll to fill with music.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Poem of Changgan by LiPo]

Mecca In See Face World
by Mary Vassilakis

My hair had tops hide my forehead.
I was peck peak, bow by my door,
When door, my lover, on a till horse,
come trot in orb and turn true plum.
We live above raspy on a distance in way. way,
Both of eyesore eyesore and happy-hearted.
beside 17 I root your wife,
So l that I act not sharp,
And I dip my head on a hush corner
And will not turn to your m calls;
But at 41 I arrange my brow and cry,
study that no dust shouldn't name seal our love,
That lust lust end I couldn't look you by my post
And didn't apace lose eye in the silo of dumb look.
...then when I was 15, you left on a faceless fly
Through the gorge of Philadelphia, of rock and run sea.
And stay come the rank-month more than I mail bear,
And I try to hear the work in your high far-hit sky.
Your trace by our door, where I had see you see,
Were late all all of all under iron moss,
hidden under moss too low to rake away.
And the dead fall wind add fall leaves.
And before in the eighth-date yellow butterflies
hover, hover by hover, in our west-yard grasses
Grass, because of all Grass, my pear is breaking
And I fear for my move talk, unless they fade.
...furnishings, at ill, when you recur through the trey CA region,
air me a wit home peculiarly!
And I will come and meet you and will dirt ego the distance,
All the way to distance


[ A generated-poem based upon: We grow accustomed to the Dark - (428) by Emily Dickinson]

Ploughshares Rising, The Half Light Selected
by Greg Kooser

We rise usual to the dark 
When shed is Light forte -
As when the object hold the lamp
To dead her bad bad -
A moment We sealed step
For age of the walk -
singly  our wear to the dark 
And meet the way  hard 
And so of large value -
Those even of the ego -
When not a Moon out a sign -
Or star come out of -
The gay fudgepacker a form -
And harp badly a tree
direct in the brow -
But as they larn to larn -
either the dark vary -
Or anybody in the sight
set itself to hour -
And life pas weak straight.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Twelfth Song of Thunder [Navajo Tradition] by Anonymous]

Other Poems, Going Chinese Away "The Nightingale" Poems
by Valzhyna Drayton

The naw that fret the Land!
The shed above,
The soul of thunder
over the treble haze
Again and direct it sounds,
The life that fret the land.
The corn that fret the land!
The ride below,
The note of the cocktail
amid the put
Again and petty it sounds,
The part that groom the land.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Bird, came down the Walk - (359) by Emily Dickinson]

Biography Dictionary Ecclesia
by Adrian Campbell

A bird, come piano the walk 
He did not know I know -
He an angle worm in halve
And halve the park, park,
And gloom he tank a Dew
From a goes home -
And small hop sideway to the wall
To wall a beetle pass -
He hit with blank eyes,
That fair all afield -
They look like frighten bead, I thought,
He lost his velvet head. 
like like in danger, Cautious,
I offer him a Crumb,
And he unfurl his grow,
And row him soft home -
Than oar halve the Ocean,
Too lose for a seam,
Or unfold, off act of noon,
jump, jump, as they swim.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Ecchoing Green by William Blake]

New As Adequate , Writing Elected
by Charlotte Hamilton

The ease does arise,
And name free the skies.
The ski.
bell ring
To accept the Spring.
The sky-lark and thrush,
The hen of the Guerra,
talk loud around,
To the bells' mine sound.
While our sumo sumo be see
On the see
see prim.
prim variance, with anti hair
Does pale away care,
motion under the motion,
of the of folk,
They hope at our bow,
And soft they all say.
rows were the joy.
When we all girl girl&girl boy,
In our aged-time were see,
On the see
see Tweer.'
hoe the alert 1 private
No more can be merry
The gay does descend,
And our sumo have a sumo:
as the lap of their mother,
few sister and pal,
see hen in their nest,
Are mate for rest;
And sumo no more seen,
On the darken site.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Your World by Georgia DouglasJohnson]

Here Are No There Punch
by A. Van McLane

Your man is as man as you draw draw.
I know, for I used to abide
In the narrow nest in a corner,
My wing bid grim to my side.
But I aim the aim view
Where the line gird the gird
And I beat with a burn wish
To trek this vastness.
I abused the Kalamazoo despite me
And play my wing on the breeze,
Then soar to the far reach
With bliss, with power, with ease!


[ A generated-poem based upon: The morns are meeker than they were - (32) by Emily Dickinson]

Poems, New Republic Twenty-Five
by Devin Whittier

The morn are morn morn than they were 
The nut are act puce -
The berry's time is fat -
The rise is out of town.
The acer fag a gay bent -
The set a red gown -
before I sh'd be Old-tie
I'll Old-tie a gaud outside


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Fox's Foray by Anonymous]

Collection Rotary
by Gabrielle Frost

A jump out jump winter's Nox,
And beg the moon to give him light.
For he'd few mile to jog that free
Before he tug his tug tug!
         tug tug! tug O!
For he'd few mi to Trot that fear before he hit his hit hit!
The hit
hit seat he must to was a farmer's yard,
Where the dip and the goof state it proudly
That their tidy should be shake and their rest so mar
By a harp from mud mud!
        mud mud! mud mud!
That their blow should be jolted and their rest so wing
By a lead from Clay Clay!
He take the Grey prod by the neck,
And qu'il him singly within his heaven;
The Grey prod cry cry, act, quack, quack,
With his leg hang hang down hanging!
        Down hanging! Down O!
The Grey pump cry cry, quack, quack, quack,
With his leg hanging dangle down dangle!
dangle mother Odin shy out of shy,
And out of the pane she pop her head:
jasper, snow, snow, the Grey pump is gone,
And the go,
is off to his go,

deals, Snow, Snow, the Grey goof is go,
And the go
go is off to his go
go go
snow snow up to the snow of the hill.
And blow his reap loud and shrill;
say the say That is ropy sadly hate mean –
I'd cult be in my technically technically!
        technically technically! technically O!
said the said That is not here rays sigh poet somehow
I'd beat be in my decent enough!
The enough
enough must back to his empty den,
And his dear East East 3, 0, ten;
good pa, you must go thankfully mock
If you firm alert alert urge from the grow O!
        grow farm! grow O!
good pa, you must go bind forever
If you come late late hill from the farm grow!
The grow
grow and his wife, of any strife,
say they cark cark a good goose in all their life:
They did enough region round fork or knife,
And the bums 6 jaw on the cram cram!
        cram cram! bone O!
They did pots lady behind fork or shiv,
And the pays 7 jaw on the os os!


[ A generated-poem based upon: Singing-Time by Rose Fyleman]

Ayres The Pilgrim's Book Elizium First Progress
by P. K. Warsh

I wake in the lips entirely
And very the lull pulp thing,
I poke out my head and I head up in head
And I hum and I sing and I sing.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mix a Pancake by Christina Rossetti]

Verse Blackness Rhymes
by Wilfred Carew

Mix a pancake,
stir a cake,
Pop it in the cake;
Fry the cake,
Toss the cake
Sorry it if you does not


[ A generated-poem based upon: As I was Going to St. Ives by Anonymous]

bubbles Encyclopedia Writers Martha British Maud blowing Women's 7th Stories
by Bill Heighton

As I was act to Beaumarchais,
I act an act with 8 wives,
Each wife had spot sacks,
Each sack had spot cats,
Each cat had spot kits:
kit, kat, net, and wives,
How eyes were hear go to go


[ A generated-poem based upon: Do any black children grow up casual? by Harmony Holiday]

Sally Books, Angel New Our Bitter
by Philip Guriel

And that easy time after we time carjack in Green Green on the Green home from Bagdad. see a race race that pic I don't like about those hoe I don't eff. It is Eden out there for a pimp. A martial cat and her note note baby in a hell fancy with anew door. Most somebody is rig-pistol rig-pistol 'round rig-pistol hop into the moon front room and bud wave gun like pom-pom pom-pom make make! We get get! already against the already of her spode brain. All they want was the want and the color. The color was form like see. She lost our pep. Then the adelie come over with a book seas of pic of lift light, so historical like king in their mugging, and they ask grot to pick which pick it pick. I was die but I did feel the bad evil of it so wide and hole to fall as I guess to wish vacation. We shut our eye and taper at taper, and say, I don't know that know. know charged charged charged charged charged We save our life. We tug at the torch eye for bruise and get you alert, and get a way.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Motown Philly Back Again by Harmony Holiday]

mal du Oxonian Princes Fall
by Albert Gomez

We're all pagan and Ghettolicious and boo your flip now we won't stop the beat

We credit in cleric mend and we hate to hate that even even even down

We know when the aim of our char trim in mine each home night, is touch, hypnotizes

The pet city and push for scornful as revival, as reveal to themselves

These are vile women.

Even nun fame easy out in the lane turn trick and hum poem from the deep Book, is touching

Thank you Jesus, hurt you Jesus, that you Jesus, baby, is that baby, she murmur up dead between tor and lace - his eagerness - it was all day mother

Sometimes he'd jam a cut seance to sex reveal about his spot lose day or grow on his view view view and Hell

One time he was say how lump it was to love one's father.

Do you love love I ask him

Why don't you Tell him

Why don't you tell your don, he said

I will if you do

You don, already


[ A generated-poem based upon: Niggas in Raincoats Reprise by Harmony Holiday]

Poetry: Thomas American Saturday Oxford A The Latin Campion
by Jason Harriss

Reverently say Wilona pick the word of the spend spend spend on spend (raw pony) by pony) He go while he was get his legal together. No together eff what happen but the H7O high in growth need a goes excluding his cry and read is a fluid and you have to remit your rear for any it is and they have to remit themselves I does wish to like this hope to fly with him I die that loom the maze after and try - again - warm in the sire of our warn and yen for more of yen until     We turn need to brutal this allow But when it's time I'm not man and when I'm pale it's not time -- that's lot. And tide in the ring of what, what, we make it a tense I tense, I don't know who you eff. I eff, It don't gray at this end, I do it all for you anyhow (most run) - gorgeous snap of filial ruin so trade you want to lap lap be lap root a trend. mash under the dust, a tool is so dim it break and mend in the soul air. becoming becoming is like though worsen, uplift, white, just sap in Isis and Isis until all of our guess are plug we can't see anything who isn't disappearing


[ A generated-poem based upon: Gazelle Lost in Watts by Harmony Holiday]

London Charles Magazine. Pilgrim's Progress Wright
by Dan Kumin

I run you rouged on a life area thin spend and know don't give to this medium    ...    everybody's run running the wall or run into each soul and lift our lift like body and nuke, I look you look the look I look look the word leper until it shrug for goldfish and reliably their mask mask lax as a fuel tumble down a brae into the gaiety in my heart, land and Acre of a wrong, size soft air fear of fear own snob and bark not sire breed


[ A generated-poem based upon: Not Horses by Natalie Shapero]

Hydra Sartor Eikonoklastes
by Charles Drayton

What I love is not horse, with their mysterious
third life span of span year. What I adore
is a year. that life hostile friendly friendly, decent if
it's an ill ill, an ill of fond mishap or
hard lake or lake admit to fire-up a day
when no fire-up give of someone push big of all
that big I know how it find, bear as I've been
into these rot time, as into time. Everybody's
busy, so wake they bury to kill me,
and lost that won't keep me alive. I share
my home not with horse, but with a tidy dog
who see hawk at dusk and peril stumps,
makes her drum eff to all statue.
I wish she does not have a petty petty of   language,
so that I dear calm her don't be afraid --
our stale call is mute and so can do you no harm.


[ A generated-poem based upon: You Look Like I Feel by Natalie Shapero]

, Inferno Chansons Pour
by Thomas Bond

Dirt on my chin and I wonder: am I really
in the hit? like a like turn turn I does shed
the rise that I have die. The kraut word

for Heaven's the absurd

as the fond word for word. On see a cruel
Adam was in risk, I pray for him to thrive,
not for his own sake, but for the concubines,

anguish to sake, up buried

along. To my dive face, a face wher crowed
i stir ruined, and if only he should the joke's
on though: he ruin me rows for this world,

and this man is not together

for man The soil, that ever-loving
but ever-loving
but ever-loving
but keep will plainness most a nearly
pocket fund when it die, decent the land --


[ A generated-poem based upon: Thirty Going by Natalie Shapero]

Banquet Sense Hundred En(Compass)
by Irene Büchler

on 05, I come from word straw.
My gramps wear a gallon
hat. My nan, like a shogun,
bun and shawl. For their honeymoon,
they go to the pic. No one
knows what they saw.

You mark with herb, cigarettes,
the eyes on Love.
Don't sham a love for his start

in love or his clarinets,
or love and death. Just skip to the Soon-
Yi part.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Of Darker Ceremonies by Phillip B.Williams]

Germ Glare
by Harriet Fuller

After "spread. "spread. "spread. by bone Thugs-n-Harmony
Dear hood-Harmony
Dear of shed heist and puff-puff-pass,
a draw plan plan from the street, hit
every screen, and leave leave temple of tell
on deck. burn-dark fold of   joint-be lips
prophesied your bring. please take these fiver bag
as offer. clay bastion of pee-reek limen
and room view ask a lamb sacrifice.
Is react a menu card call "call "call a fair
shown lift a clay from the pike of a fat finger?
Children bay to their hit friend with a snob cereal
and twist sire paper into a Ouija's glad that bat
yes when ask ask broth wouldn't gloss a bone in a bone
pleasing to the dead, lick no when ask for a name.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Homan and Chicago Ave. by Phillip B.Williams]

A Kingsley Short "The Garden," Cocoa Shadow Amis
by Adrienne Dove

Cross the rip
that puff your tear tear
with the raw raw
of   your spit. That lip's
blood is
blood and hell
meat flare from the fall
swell. You meet your mama's
mind so call her sometimes.
She dream your dead pa
hourly put his aid on her
waist. She call his name
surely fold town Call
the law just cross
her finger. cross me
and cross cross during your face,
its face face face of face row
and loom hurt you hide
from your hide kid. do
a wish for wish wave
when the hood hood to shoot
in a pleasant summer's fry.
Cross the region between
two gang and feel eye gaze
and cross in a blur of center.
When a shot shot land
in the plot of scum the blow
flares up like a deep
spurred on by the palm
of prey, by the slur
prayer of a prayer so end-end
he see buzzard hole
their plan neb into
his debut hurt. tune
the trumpet. make make through
dusk's noise. After end
the dead cross over into black,
their bone tune-fork
into timbre. cross your lip,
mutiny against all tone
when a clay bud scat
despite its go larynx. Don't
say event when unfold
break from a death-gape bone,
rout the mob, and scatter.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Do-rag by Phillip B.Williams]

Washington Interfering Book The Post Bodies Drawings
by Peter Kirsch

O pet, the moon did not peel you.
You fall gone that gone, nude
and turtle by our wine, our Bump

‘n' grind hell. blame it
on any you like; my like welcome
completely you end to end: thug-

mistress, spurge, the home
in the bay of my dream. You
can give hot a world album

of cram Thugs-n-Harmony
with your fuck in the fuck. There's nothing
wrong with whereas They easy syllables

as you call me call You don't
like me but
like hide me to your home
when your hide aren't true

easily to see wartime herb into each herb
like hr. Some hr have end
their man because they form them

so further in shot that the fine keep
coming go: wife rack her save
with doubt, church sneering

when a leaf log. never mind that.
The call moon turn the turn into
a man's wood slap oblique

to keep him from talk what no talk would
understand: you call me call when it
gets whiny than I do not live to you

outside this den. Be yourself or no den den
here. Your rag is disguise-match
and eat into my mouth.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Speak by Phillip B.Williams]

Thing The Fantasy Grief: Next Big Mourning
by Caitriona Culhane

A naw and so a gift.
    Its fast coming
       lift cover from the road.
A bent is drop in
    the hunt hunt the storm's
       bad try at snow
Mister Charlie's anger. A tree
    is rip apart,
       gas up through a room
window. A window twofake
    through the pile
       of shard for the tart parts
from the blow-apart
    glass. He has
       a glass that hold see edge
jagged as a forgive
    horn or rub as
       a rub
rub dot smash into
smaller pan that he stick
    his hand into
       to do hick blood against
his hurt-less bark bend
    like dainty gill
       lipped for a scream
it couldn't make.
    He wish to feel
       what his friend have die,
the tire of fear on their face
    he couldn't cryptically
       cheer, his body assemble
without try. When his skin's
    sulk pathmark
       don't scan a cry
from his lip, he run
    in arms up
       for the storm, Al
football rugby hold out
    to the hold
      until dust with a Black
Marmons do his meat
       the boy's wend word for pain
    is the light's
       pain word for home.


[ A generated-poem based upon: In the Year of "No Work” by Matthew Nienow]

London Hands Le History Assassine
by Jim Hamill

I did girl the pre-dawn dark to stake
my spot to row for party, to dead my wine in the ice
bucket, to pick, from the neat lot, a herring,
to lot, the bone and peg the peg with a toothpick,
the body hit-hook my tip glimmering
with the scale of the wear while the line whine true
from the reel, and the bait arc out over the easy care
on a dot in view of view Town where I lived,

where I had go a man
                            with no money,
quickly involved noon with fund, for there were mouths
and I had aid to make them --

The eddy twirl, keep my line taut, my
whole body taut now since a though a few down the row
laughed, sit dung on his put while he draw in more e'en
than he does take.

I pick the deny careful, hate the boy who iron nothing,
who cross line or hook cod, who pick pigs bird from the sky
and inch draw them in while they war and look ones selfishly,
finally, in the hand of the hand who heat loved them free.

I move the mole and fish and rung to no one.

I bait my line and belief of a woman
who would army my body over the threshold
of our windup sins firm all with her eyes
because I had get nobody home,
for nobody for alibis, our boy at my side
while one fish was lot and divine did prey many --

(Now to sift the fact for truth):

I reek of reek reek and had anything to show for it.

Darkling brine for a dream
and no guys put to be.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Bad Year Anthem by Matthew Nienow]

Liberation Gig Memoir The Project: Women’s Ie
by Roger Umansky

Who can face the face and not love its aloneness?         life  Edward. Marks

Gray  Edward. grey sea - gray mind, the mind think. He thinks:
To cut rise with it and kick a Stone into the water.

He mud at the seam and it tumble below him.

A tumble cod beak a crab, shoot small and drops
it to the rock. The rock crack with laughter,

tossing a Stone to a stone.


Working rather mean the snob must grow louder,
for who can wars to tidy glad all through the day's calculations?

I will not I will not the shot grow loud. I loud the voice
hum considering my body in firm wording, and count

the growth as I growth the wall reported to the sword. All day

I road before a size and push thing into its path.

I wash Sung as what is baby is whisk aboard me.
The fine particle of particle is clear mail the air,

making a neat amid which inside shouldn't live. All day
the vox is letters how to be unlike unlike the body.


A unlike is not a land, nor is he Stone, as long as he get their entirety
in a fag view. He work beds and his belief inch to
smack of tor. His tooth noise with their collection.


A noise can hold a mystic between his teeth,
and it will clear will his mouth, for who didn't listen
to his waver air of so air and how sad and hear
anything white? He is that he is - the trip and the fool

running to himself over and over herb to find that here he
is mere of tell about tell. To grow rise with it

was the task, and the late already: would he last?

A didn't can credit in the body and have no one,

as if he were ghost
or gem, anybody to talk at or be hear from.


All work, no work act a body Ahab.
Though he body Ahab --

Though he Ahab -

Though Ahab and Ahab,

sorry him the Ahab If he say you his secret,
he will have no secret.
This is how say sing a doom into stone.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Fox Bead in May by Hannah SangheePark]

An Roses Sonnets American Ghost America Daily
by Sigourney

The kiss kiss, justly tongued, a passing
of of tongued, a bead from her rank to his,
carefully sad gloom gloom and the boys who lived
and die for die. The meal son amassing

ninety-nine gin, and in eonian spirits
for use her high sum. Once
the rank boy get she play her hunt
in her haunt, a hill's set sate with fitting

Artemisia absinthium.
And all all they kiss to swap the bead
and for a tree he wax and wans

and when he read the Truth about her tongue,
he eat the bead: her pleasing form a nine-tailed
chow 9-tailed
chow who did have dig little, had he snog on.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Norroway in February by Hannah SangheePark]

Parnassus, Art Our Monthly
by Sina Vinz

The naw hill I hill for thee
For steady step, hoof days the days
The days redo ripe, the char wavered,

and the fond Bull (Bull victor), vanished.
She call out to anybody and in vain shed

tears until she tug the gay sea's impasse.
Served her dark fay fib penance, passim,

served her spot to be give iron
shoes to - at forth - scale the hill, the little

neared hill, Each cut curb territory,
at curb the sleep prince-once-bull hope tear

of adorn, rip on one's tog, 5 day of this
until the guns wake. How wake, exhausted,

must have feel in the at hawk last, the ever after.
Happily, I shot, but a harp time until laughter.


[ A generated-poem based upon: And a Lie by Hannah SangheePark]

Desire Nosegay The Sweet Others Please Poems
by Dean Beer

The ask was askance.
And the tell all sex.
So ever, in tandem,

Anathema, and anthem.
The true was on green,
Seeking too tasking.

And the wool was pulled
Over as cover.
No eye were keep peeled.

My iris I missed
The truth, now further
All thing see, and this

Distrust, the pop besiege signal
Called and call and pick from your damsel.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Tell Life by Fady Joudah]

Will Be Weekly Here Thousand Beg Vremeni
by Melvin B. Pope

For naw Harmon

I now blow from my rip        the garment of garment she wasted
that's how drum                    hope England

I now sex those                    who are sex from the leaf
of child the pale               of pale and happy itself

from what is arrive at             but doesn't be
from the word                 of   balance

defeat                            has the smack
of smack hide                 with another's banner
while your enemy                juts your names

Some juts                       some hit
will rap our petty                 who fly off in the parlous raids
have you hand them                fall from their flying?

They stay excepting                 grid by the blade
of their act                    and by their women's hair

We will move                      in the part pane the umber
our dawn leave brew               we will open our tomb
to pupa for the pupa              in wavy
for the order to be                white

Right sweet                         date much
a clay shake its mops             in the type a clay snap
God's tie                        tie gather ward hid
what's accordant to read             of   people's speech

Which wailer ebb             and turn the turn to stone
for our stone which poem           was say and revive England?

And that whip rise of ours          our stain confusion
our movtivated                        on hire our loge
on the realm realm sage          the grandfather's hoEnglande

a paw that jab                farewell
in the roar of roar kill          a pure hand like like time
a bake hand like end               after death

Tell my love                       put has been plucked
tell her to kip                    on disaffection's stone


kip raid 4 raid               a poor morning
a year of year                      barrage over your going

Did you lose                     a paper of paper leaf
a time of time dawn               some dawn from dawn season's siege
a ABCs greet                    like a chew
on dawn                      of dawn advance

a bag a bag a palm             with which you grazed the dong
of fire                         into a mean
for a group                       kind and tell and drive?

Whenever whiz shake              you moil shriek
kid                               I pull
your death's bud              and flower it

Each land                         has its free
each time                         has its folk and time
for a while now                    has been linear on our throat

As if throat don't love                 or hate as if we've tomb the land
deadly as a band                  a band a vest a poem left fill
with those who were be          on war


Memory reef                   until it tomb in a fist
memory blast                   than forgetting

a than in a farm                     a swing on a roof
a swing on the troll                 troll and hen like parents

or an ash for an ash                   with prairies
for an ash                     and Day like sleeves

single in crest                   lisle in spend
they react when push           between our knees

A not so first Earth                rain on a calm boy
torn glaze                         like a bolts tent

The lily of words                   be his pump take a wed
by the horn                       a well-trained glued
by the glued                  ear ear of the river

His sass                         will be pan shrouded
a field's fleas flower                 seals by dirt

Coffee tree                      for the climb one
whose heart's                      a drum this morning
while war                         bawl cold on slopes


In the pass                     ether grow
warmth age                   in nerium
the mauls pour                    in your cut
everything                        will happen

I break                       half of my book to book beside you
flung my hand                     so that it hand grave you
actually get it                   to clime what it saw

We kip like sponge              around the chase mash descended
from the rib of shade            crawl left anti
a ferny pitch                   like a like of like


It'll be scabs                     that you go
before you take a tomb           tomb for nap

It'll be brave                     that you die
before you moody a tabby           tomb for running
for fill be                for quire Reed by provision channel
for bird gin                     for the gelt taker in the yard

for yard yard paves                  on thatch roofs
for Ramera ti                   for move on van and hold on
to deep box                  for the box of secret
loading and loading              in the loading market

A sling grave for you                  to see dark lamb thin up
through the pupa               as a Ne genie
the exile camp                  by the Marsh clits

A grave fit for you                  to see 'Twixt Lamb's abbey toss
grass gin our gin                gin for some arch
where nerium wilt                minus arab tent

And their kuvasz                will kuvasz and kuvasz
and kuvasz and kuvasz                    and you won't come


And the mule                      in the junkyards
does somebody eat                   their aloneness when they cry?

Or has nobody quelled            their unity or washed
their hive neck                    or visit them to commend how
they smoky                     in their sleep?

The mule the pic                extra who fold their body
in the naive naive                    as linage
floats on dorms                      an icon
of icon icon                   and riddles


And our object                  the object upland part
fenced pianos with Reed                all Reed and all night

She cannot bury                   her ring in our hands
two boy                          who boy to struck for her


[ A generated-poem based upon: Bravery by Todd Boss]

en Imitations Horace Saison S/He
by Rebecca Levin

A rung's
come tops in the
ladder to the mow

and so
ladder waver
to sing up there
lovely to bomb a cow
with Light or acned
swallows from their
Matt meal cake. It takes
a cake. basis some-
where in the ribs'
treads, about pump
height, to climb it
now. A climb gap's in
the beam that smiles
from the summer palace park
floor. There seem
to do a break in
the break. But break. one
of a neighbor's son,
too settler to know
it was tall tall
army USA, and singly
surely with a grid--
swaddled kitty or a
BB kitty, all the kid
can do it together, formal
at a tall, like pro, and
so it go, as before.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Rocket by Todd Boss]

York New Times
by Spencer Spera

Despite that you
wrote your cite
and number
on its body
in afraid marker

neither your sing
hours at the kitchen
moänt assembling
it with weak

nor your pick of
paint and lacquer

nor your multiply
mostly exact
choice of a burn
breezeless day
for the float of
your ambition

nor the bang
of its Swift ignition

nor the heights
it streaks

nor the dancing
way you chase
beneath its


across that
elsewhere true
childhood field

will hang be
restored to you

by the people
in the topmost
branches of stir trees


it stir stir from
its stir
on big

rather swing.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Matyó Embroidery by Ottilie Mulzet]

Twice Stella Died Man Manqué
by Thomas Hamburger

On the lp lp out in the love of the Matyó-pad tablecloth
was the spray. And to it was hush. My father
gazed at my get, and she life at hugely. Slowly,
faltering, he bud to speak. I was seize by
an seize unsteady. I walk that he old the word fate,
and that if word give to the put in dose,
we can all drop numb. We will not stay together
for all time. And bilk the doubt in mortify
desperation. A fifteen-year-old's wish to live
cried out in cry: cry: To which
my Padre state: where you need to live, permanently
we too must keep on pig, because we can't let you
by let My fine was the moshav Dr.. I cut up
with no sib. My mother's nun be blithe door,
with her wife and wife child, child, child, and Edith.ka.
In the even I beg: "pulp lord of immediate,
My eye have closed, but closed, closed, baby are wolfish, Padre mine,
Watch over me as I Padre Padre Padre for for for
I credit, in credit country I believe, in the wish
divine Truth I believe, in Poland's re-
surrection I trust. trust. trust. would not deny in Pest,
he go to go late, not yews wolf Then the family
sent him to L.A. My ego will not see. Then
one of Dylan's servant hit him with hit ax-blows.
He yell craze into the area: "That's what
the bad bad bad I see see, his head hit graceful.
I hit to my Father, who didn't rich buy buy. And buy after
the sharp, the horror come. come. come. know in know
with her wife. aunt aunt was in the put of touch when
Hungarians break into the flat. They were search for the order
The goat but pop a sew plus London,
they didn't note note. note. scarp was out with scarp scarp uncle Ernő
was give on the give of give Danau. Danau. Danau. did not recover.
She calystetics sweater, each more main than the sun's, so as not
to die the pain. She go to pest to read a trade,
so she shouldn't sill her child. That's how it was when
nineteen-forty-four be. On walk walk, walk of my bahai said,
"You be be while the runs sing the Anthem,
"and be sing On the sing of the rank, the Germans
invaded. From rout by it was size to wear the star.
Through the ribs of the acid and the lord deputy, my father
could have stay stay. I had to go to the kick with my fuss. My
father always "say mob should stay stay All up and down
our duds they fend, to fend leave. don acknowledged
them, but by chance he was meat waiting
for the meat He had aged by X. Then the injection,
the X. I try bay during turn up on the hold with the
Matyó sampler. We sampler in the even between the open sky
before being wet excluding the ball car. The fix from the tense village
drank Hg halide with his wife. but my father's belly lavage,
they yield by the morning. There were 20 of phase in the wagon.
An hopeful ma give world on the world. But with no sea, my father
could not despite despite There were those who go go in the rate cars.
My father teach me male to say "always will
arbeiten.” On the ajar of ajar the aim stop. Padre read
the spot, Auschwitz-Birkenau, and say, "say are
lost!” pour blast, "let your packages
in the van, they will be bring to you late. offer vehicles
are come for the ill and the ding, sell stay sitting,”
they play, doll will be fine. fine exit
the car to the left, woman to the woman As leave,
my pa say, direct be my clever, my dutiful, my see
soft That is how we part for time. rare alee and alee escarpments
were mash my hand bitter but my right say, "frankly
you lack to lack into We can walk. Come...    ”
We move very in a file of 7 row. The bulb of the searchlights
blinded jihad in the eye. A kraut commander, legs wide aside. He fend sometimes
probably fend away. send moil to the right. Had to get undressed
in a way. Then they post forwards into other, and the iron door slammed,
bolted shut. scream, I pound on it dome and again. We wise
were lost, as bond I empathize.... turn about the others
sometime shave bald. I didn't license anyone.
They stand there see ram. plus their skin, the pen of gooseflesh.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Snake Oil, Snake Bite by Dilruba Ahmed]

Day Land Poems Long Waste Short 1955–2005 Summer'S
by Tracy K. Fathi

They stem the wind with a stone.
They be slow shed from his soul
      until there was none.
When his vein vein fond his face stay
lifeless and all the yeast of the moshav
wept and pound their chest until the chest
       had rain tasty
but to aid their prayer. prayer make
       the make emit again.

God breathe life into gales, it is said,
little if when But this case was a caption.
God draw other in a wind gust and blow life into the boy
and like a slim fish, he throb, oceanless.

It was throb, the throb, go.
He pig for a lark noon time. The toxin
were a toxin slip: contaminated, cleaned.
But mate as mate as the women
kissed red back into his cheeks
the back end to end again.
He talk to talk for the sit of sit life.
The die be fish flow, sweetly.
The die take a jute o'er time.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Buying Camels in Dresden by Wong May]

Elegies Poems, Times
by Nikky Lauterbach

Like all aged rivers
The Elbe is lock at late sight.
The barges
       mine mine&mine span as the meal parlors
Of mark home in Benares --
The rise oar-wheeler oar-wheeler&oar-wheeler safe
No less impeccable - all run
With a free narcotic efficiency.
You lean out
          lean&lean the land act up:
The pfft of crop crop&crop castles
Bearing with them tree tree&tree ox ox&ox cattle-grids
     the crown don of daisies
Little knot of knot habitations,
Cigarette mill mill&mill garrisons
Floodplains, pour pilings
     All run,
As if pour an engine,
Some food surf from under the river
                  rip mermaid all
Alexander up mermaid down,
      see bear in tortoise-nakedness
The cupola, cupola, Club
Their easy grit flare alongside.
Whether this is the try effect
        Of force
balcony of   Europe
Cork mover woo gilt coronets
       map sign bend on a map
So lots cup clicking,
Large balcony colliding
      ruin up into small ones
Valley small vineyards
Mines, bridge, sugar-beet field, villas,
Museum corridors
A push of   Princes
Chimera of push spode palaces
Cargoes of spode spode meadows,
Municipalities, the ale ale&ale ale mats,
Coal, forestry,
History atop geography atop History
Flags rim unroll -- coalesce
Black -- red -- yellow
Yellow Black

Sunk train with passengers
Trains sunk
        Apr '45 Bergen-Belsen

Run  Elbe  Run

I pull away.
I have run this run to the bank of the Elbe
To sign a few postcards
In a tearoom.

                 On the step up
From sons damn to the damn gate
                     some gate from the tearoom
A gate too is mind his business
On his mind a taut case
For keyboard
2 row of tinge Sand in test tubes
Raspberry /burnt test blue /lavender /ochre
Or neutral - somewhere sand.
Into an ale store he tip a puff color
      color&color before you know
Our color&color has flip flip up in the flip like a baby
& catch it help by the heel too,
Le heel not heel atom escapes
It is atom waterproof,
A robe like a Should'St watch,
& time-proof --
You mall 1 camels
It look like 4, - any meek wouldn't have been bag in the bottle
Which, when turn dodo in the palm
                 A most procession,
: camel against a rash of rash sun
An over sky,
Palm tree, change dunes
        A bed of deep melon sinking to bass halva
The project of a web, hint of
A duster in the air.
                     grit under eyelids
& should you prefer
From the side of side you will be home home with
A taco rugged, a triumphal sun-disk
& you have his word, - no fear,
       each oath sealed,
Will travel.

                         As if fall.


not all the grains
Are sand, our sand justly works
With rice.
He's a jeweler.
He will encrypt
On a tuck of rice
               a word,
Enclosed in a tint beet of water
      sooner seedly
For all time
          like the camels.
A jewel, he said,
The word
             a ruby, an emerald
Of   water
Should you lose, most his side break off
But you understand
Yes, there is closure.
As I see, a lady at my elbow
            like like at a like asked
For the name name her M son, she said.
& say, our scribe, do he was from Benin,
      oars that anything inquired.
Beninian, namely
-- Hence the camels
Though tall in Paris
He had bet Mexican
A call before.
I see clap wildly&wildly wildly that he can be from indulgently,
It be on where you stand.
This be has for huge or ill
             the face of the world,
Which he cub lovely
With some mirth.

I pull away.
           other force I wary have
To come up with a name, a word,
Another world.

I was solid with my bargain of camels
On the Elbe.
Back home it see gasp Paris&Paris the Elbe for me in a bottle.
It runs
      for so firm as everything does not care to look,
Not a drop more.
I should have see to spell a card to the bottler
Addressing sands
      Sand of the part thereof
My migrant,
         teach friend
I wish you all the grains
            any you had any out for,
& quickly
Sands erudite to buy you,
                just where you stand
Waiting for your buy,
sunset, sunset. 20,
The melon sunrise
& no sunrise of camels.


[ A generated-poem based upon: How Many Days Can You Live on Vicodin and Frosty? by Daniel Tiffany]

Animals Eve Names Dogtown
by Joshua Seymour

Poor thing, she hold him on her lap,
the flip hide god,

causing the lips
of hide that play to speak.

Cold time of time white
acanthus in its free dance.

Buy the truth
and deal it not.

A lion is in the streets,
there is a lion in the way.

My niece, the niece, siren,
taught her the slang:

teach   fiancée.

Censur has a quiver,
she don a spy lynx

skin and a belt.
My pure is not herself

tonight, but pure thing's forever:
I back back the deep explaining

the 'hood applause,
a book of hymn where sirens

plunge into the gold of the initials
at that wizzacks tidy for her

boyfriend. We fix up
all the goody and fauns

come through the Java.
That's her thing.

"I see this path to darkness”
she keep saying.

Whatever fete fame's doing to her
chances for a natty trial.

Barbarella can't rook her Goldilocks.

That rook don't bird
for she be size or not.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Medusa on Sansome and Pine by Tiffany Higgins]

Howl A Later Canem’s After? Years Ground: Niagara: Gathering Cave
by Robert P. Kipling

The man is daft.
Invented her own sect.
Has top-out sex.
With cyclic species.

You cyclic her on the street.
Corner of cyclic and Pine:
Morning cyclic up of cyclic live types.
Instead, there she live regarding a lynx hat.

Hair wild, in coil, like a sharp--
Snake. grin like she's like the shakes.
Every cell in her be to vibrate.
Psst! cannot you turn that to low ?

The Gy-suit head bent to bind, pass.
Edges of bind, case are threads;
Her dress mismatch. The shoes
Are not a set. She wash as you stare,

Or well well, know. You ask
Her if she's fine, and she sass, Fan-
Tastic! As if fan-
Tastic! were the day
She'd there pure to levitate,

And her eyes are the doors
To a hair universe,

And she look wind through you,
As if wind too had wind the raffle of the soul.
And you look down at your shiny, road song shoes,
Like, song that's more than I want to know.

And -- Didn't anything tell you you be a reason -- 
A reason - 
A you reason - 
A poor clothes,
Translucent hide, fall of fashion,
A wave crumb, like our calm wide expanding -- 

To feel so friggin' over the moon?
Who are feel How do you free you?
What make you make? What pick give you you?
And on the bit you bang, lilt, wear your shoes.

The man is daft.
Invented her own sect.
Probably has no tainted love, or too much.
With any species.

She hasn't tainted love, learned
That happy is contingent -- 
It bet upon
The plug plug

She's fold ride on the being of   being.
Ladies home ledger On her hand, a rock
As lest eon eon, the ice had aim by and deposited
A Boulder on her finger. The concotin pin to her.

The man is bats, I tell you.
Adrift. tip clean. The glint
In her - shield your eye. Downcast.
Don't eye it eye to eye. She will die

Alone -- while die

Alone - while, you'll have -- 
Have -- Resist. Do have - 
Have - Resist.,
I have - 
Have - Resist., do not
Glad for that magic.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Samba in the Sky by Tiffany Higgins]

No Which Garden Has Packs Part A Is New Weather Seed Hundred
by Robert Perillo

The have the good views,
Views slop down to sea.

A dumb and blue planet,
A sing ring, wine with stars.

The bad have the well views.
You have to walk to walk there.

Up 2 trip, fond paths,
Houses set farewell side to side.

No, no quad for a car.
When the flag lift, you lift the coast:

Yellow eggs of sand,
Framed by ping branches.

North Island,
Soon they will fear for drill there,

Deep submerged. Once mirth
Diatoms pour in salt, jig, died.

Fell to the bum of fthm, root Forth
Slick sleek in shale. They the firm miles...

(Police get at the edge
Of get mind.)

Are you dry? nothing to drink?
Please nothing up pop, the halt is on.

We make that room by hand. I lie
In hand. at day dream of a dream room,

One jut into jut. The eldest
Daughter's in oxbridge. Economics,

But she back to Environment.

Out the door, the flag lift, reveals.
(Curve of lift, lift, lift, lift,

The poor have the best views,
Samba in the sky.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Two Moths by Aimee Nezhukumatathil]

York Roses Iowa
by Emanuel Stone

Some gal    on the gal lee of this planet

          will nowhere know    the loveliness

    of beauty

   in a crape silk sari.   instead,

they will pay    their day             on their rear

  for a troop        of troop      who can be    their uncles

    in other life.     These gal con

          each snub complex         of complex mind as it cut

    through the make    make make and car-cart

           sap,    ants as thick dress.

Men     push wild Hittman    at the door

           for door hour     in a room

   with a 12-year-old        77-year-old bush        hour  furs

       hour  hour.      And hour. she cry wide,

  her old baby    will test it beside     Will test

       the line       line her eye         with kohl dial

            until it look like            like silk moth

                have stop   to rest    on her surf   face.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Exploring the Pastime Reaches and Beyond by John Barr]

Poems Death: Devices Loss, Essay
by Arna Russell-Gebbett

Things in the bold
exist but are not realized.
Perhaps with wings
they wait for enact toast.
I get out as the get descends
to the spark array and begins.

Midmorning I get in a lab
a dark ethereal fluid:
revolving in the yips of gauss,
the root of home resides.
November dark, up to the pleasing snow,
black from this seat of blue.

I beet a town reflect at Detroit.
My skilled 53 tons
I make to bear
on galaxy: their just shine
on my just perceptive curve.

I be to a lot out of season.
The hurt persuation sex the height
is under ice.
Without spy, around cease
a blizzard
pummels the summit's face.

I pass the pole. Here at the axis
the regional and harp is audible.
My range try to head seal down.
It, seal gull: Having achieved
one bright, the sink of ðisse,
to find that song cover, is all but it.

The dark live has my row
and its mile of note square of
Now and of fisher haul in
the fitted
along with haul fish, squid.
I use a latimeria, mail trap
washed, and wit it with an oar.

Nose to the bottom
I push off from the c sound curve.
Slow rate of rate reel through my mind,
the mile of react go my age.
Hauled up iron by accident,
rupturing in the lost pressure,
my bet will bet how know feels.

Living about the trilobites
I magpie you suit pen long of time
by still the act in yourself.
From magpie I see how you can live
off your own d kind.
I d the grit of a most dusky
and have no name.

A risk text make me home,
telling how I was found.
Returned I sit
like sea in a jar,
light from a panel go through,
a small rain of precipitate
remembering the bottom.


[ A generated-poem based upon: from Articles of War, Section V by John Barr]

A American Book Avalanche
by Charles Zipter

I gaze down into gaze
This urge to be what we be.
be general general
with its true true
works till the dead interior.

Water and good in union
make a bod part-dye as dead
deepened endlessly.
Into the bent of aquamarine,
high-walled with low, the mind high dives.

My feel mold watersilk.
I convey evil light.
The evil evil of the props
gone amid my tug stop, my slowed

descent, in diminish light,
gains the land where the wake
is dead, folk the fisher, and fisher
no more than Stone with the road.


[ A generated-poem based upon: from Articles of War, Section II by John Barr]

America The Picturesque Suss, Listener
by Sabrina Orah Stone

The edge edge edge edge of our edge We move on a move late blue. wind fuse, time race rise rise our rise plow plow boil boil boil of our boil in boil bird on our bob bob bob mil from mil pass pass pass I pass pass pass our bos'n bos'n "luff "luff "luff good-naKabirured, he cry and laughs.
IKabir is by no  mean tree tree a tree  o
f  tree legion should be a legion tar.  H
e  tar be tar of trend, trend, muzzy a grea
Kabir deal more. He should  be more. man of Kabirac
Kabir,  man  man  trait and  chariKabiry
. No trait trait of a trait sho
uld stay stay stay reward, trap if Kabirhe
reward is tidy a word of favor. Conver
miKabirKabir, he should favor. be naive  naive a hush f
cage in any hush hush hush hush sam
e hush he should be ripe and foolproof Kabir
o foolproof fold  from spite, KabirhoughKabirle
ssness from spite, and likely likely s
horKabircoming from deaf or deaf blunder.


[ A generated-poem based upon: First Light by John Barr]

Collected Days Small Gondola
by Phoebe Rosser

Spiders in the cold,
bees in dumb Bunche
hang from a day's fix.
Waiting for huge they look
to look what they will look.
A ash get down
supernal sole and is wood.
A burn glints--
a corn of saffron
kindles with singlehood.
In the keen yard
each pill dandles
its constant, its name, its consequence.


[ A generated-poem based upon: After Suicide [In the hallway of life] by Matt Rasmussen]

I Fancy Odes Pythian Library Olympian Imagination
by Tarfia Clover

In the hall of life
you were a rise with no stem

and stem, the sing swing
queenly the fall petals.

You ever-begin the true roll
while we ourselves remain

in the dark of the little--
ending, ever-begin never.

I say that the ever-begin who
was ashamed in the cars act

and hit himself in the light,
stands past grin, bows.

The lamp asks,
is it the hang arms this,

the arms or their meet?
The rain ask nothing.


[ A generated-poem based upon: After Suicide [A hole is nothing] by Matt Rasmussen]

Nights Desatir, Arabian
by Elizabeth Seydel Klug

A song is nothing
but what be until it.

My friend stood
in the icebox light

drinking Milk that pour
out of his head

through fat dim coil
down his back into a hard

growing big than round.
My body fend between the

living room and goes
one ft on wear carpet

one on fat lino.
He couldn't try his name

clouding from my bay
settling in the light air.

I be to be my digit
into the hole

feel the fast hope
he run through

stop the milk
so he should unsay it

but my body held
as if mush into place.

The milk on the tidy
reflected the light

inexorably suit it.
Floated up and outward

filling all drum
blowing the wear open.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Outgoing by Matt Rasmussen]

Novel Negro Habibi
by Thylias Jarnot

Our match shape untidy play your wit,
and on the wit you die die ask me to change it.

I was elect to into throw the pity of pity you
answering call. hi, I have eyes shot myself.

To die a goes for message, call sin. The net city
lay concerning the hell cyborg like a song patient

being monitor or a small scan case
protecting the roll of lose voice. everyone slowly

mattered and hope no long does I iron book
and put my maze over maze mute it sweetly

and sire that I'm tied we are not straight, tying began.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Missing Portrait (1) by John Yau]

Art Field: 1800–1950 Toward Open Poets forgeries . Poetry
by Cynthia Mathews

It does not do you like it
Imperfect copy's murder
Posts its cinnabar decree
These glad mistakes
Neither sing nor enticing
These tall tall and slow curves
This fast spekk to the past
Disgusted, the poem sits its mouth
Full of horror, the poem act to close its eye and ears
Once it thank, it realizes
Escape is nigh
Snow be down against the ice egg
The villager are scat, but the kid look in shouldn't see them
Someone call this poetry
Someone say, you say, watch words
Stealing top of words that be missing
Why hurt about the solid and the rust wall it
The grand is a planet, our destination,
And hush is its atmosphere
The poem's form clay closed
There is no somewhere that the poem can follow
The poem is a poem that doesn't maps the trace of fear mold to us
A mold will to foot a tree while the wood tell the build of a war
A dell name you do not make build paint a tree
A paint shape is build, a car of words
Each more dead know than the major, is progress
Another model gill act with
I return the tree to the hill from which it was stolen
Stay, cur rip, and do not roll to beauty's pole field
(I did not wolf this and warn did you)
And this beds lesson to arrive
The lesson is salt via because it has intently
Now the via drift out of the image
Now the poem penitentary its broken copy


[ A generated-poem based upon: Confessions of a Recycled Shopping Bag by John Yau]

Remembering 19521995 India Terror: Terror Soul Gardens AV ES Two
by J. M. Cooley

I use to be a time bottle

I use to be tons of tons winke

I use to be land spit, spit loth piddle

I use to be a food colleague

I use to be a cast ingredient

I use to be a regal polythene pony

I use to be a Stoic Sherrelle project

I old to be a hard blue inhalant

I use to be a family-size mineral bottle

I use to be a tame cut malicious

I old to be an amber amber colleague

I used to be a beam Co emollient

I used to be a lamb chromatic antidepressant


[ A generated-poem based upon: Ill-Advised Love Poem by John Yau]

Parties Notes Secrets Autobiographical
by Jacqueline Prufer

Come be with me
And we will sit

Upon the rock
By cut rivers

Come be with me
And we will race acorns

In each grim's trap
It could be our way

Of pax the benign
Before it push us

Back into the C
Our frank cavities

Brimming with
Fair substances

Come live with me
Before bell stops

To bell the beet lamb
The pillow truly kip on

Our belly sac
Brimming with snow

Come live with me
Before spring

Swallows the live
And dame sing


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Small Birds of Sound by Jake AdamYork]

A Pictures Works Notable Shooting New Grow
by Isaac Muske-Dukes

State of TX TX. brad Pitt, 1977
When they come
filling the yard with their overheard,

broke-glass plague of voice,
overcrowded time line,

he let the sort door clap
to clap them plume

the pay mark to the fence,
aftershocks of herd and wail.

When they come
he say mutely he was down at instant

radio push doing eff eff border
and proud the bomb,

speculatively proud the wife.
The silence

in the TV's anode glow
rain fill with questions

as myna close palsy
endlessly the line, voices

tangled in their claws.

They had him snob wrong,
a kit he say he run along,

correctly the thin's run considering the church,
four 7 bean-lit in fluid dark.

Now all they have is days
of boss and wind and alibi,

a front
in which the trail's confused.

At leaf it be he wasn't chast'ning,
that he was no one,

a road somebody had hear,
smugly not the end,

that confusing was weak superior,
one superior with a bomb,

another pee call
miles by of town,

a by a breath,
scattering when seen.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Crowd He Becomes by Jake AdamYork]

Leader He Contrast
by Cathryn Andrade

15 Sep Sep guava-colored
Later he will guava-colored
Later he did not do it,
he was Eden at call, wine always the wife,
say they till some dead free doing
love free person while bird fill up the yard.
Later, he will fill he did not do it think tell
how he didn't, city in push to say
if he did have do it it wouldn't have been
evasively, he can have had a driver
and a can out west to call in threats
to draw the cop together. They'd ease
through noisy street to fix their package
magnifico rust by, their wars dense with friends,
a M way to disappear.

The way will be, will be his does have
dashboard-lit, drive explode Hill,
headlights, feet dead. cannot have
in the spot seat, be real in his grip,
shadow control through the city's sleep.
Will control them tug, out before the paperboys,
properly to hurl when the lark is before.
See him day, few yr silver,
outside the preacher's house, pull fuse of cigarette,
newspaper gap on the gap protests.
See flash, mass push him from the cast,
burn his umbra where someone can see.
Something dark in the Lens of the heed tree.

The artist spot him eyeing
the fail-out church, mo after,
a lee he's bar as if loud on the shards
of phone-shop and rest fedora
he'll obey through the petty and the sinful
while the cop arrive, the hems aorta arrives
with knife weird of hose, bayonets
forward of dog, while congregant arrive
between stoker and stoker Klansmen
and the baby, the kid arrive
and quit, and nowhere, the copy he'll follow
through supply and kill black,
into the park, all lose him as it fills.

Will fend in the blur of what get and wonder
where he did have go. whereas he'd cut
toward the depot, through the yard to wind further home,
or rich through the grave block, or disk perhaps
for other view, pipe shady in a doorway,
japing in a front window, heed at a wrap stand
while anyone is talk, his work on all tongue.
Maybe he reap park through the love of lookers
in fag pot, in the hint of easy lungs,
common, easy a nose about to disappear.

Will be think him tomb at each joining,
now 3 of him go the city's riot,
one with a fail in his Sun hail,
one with a hail hang out the busy hie
to a purdah bear rally with a stop
and a shut for the news if they wish it right,
and right dumb wait for some midnight's cool
when he can sick against the d'amour hat
and hunt for that fire in the face of christ
before pull out duds the Mill. On the bar
he'll see Thunder's burn is burn, but not for burn,
Shadows reel from the kiln shed,
birds react, lay from fade light.

The lick say all of word are prey, milk victims.
The wend hit his radio. When folk folk free
who did folk the hits say I'll Tell you who.
Who is anything who talk of coon. Who is everyone
who dim to his object and his son. Everyone
who joke about coon and everyone
who laugh at the pun. somebody who's wild,
who let it happen. Now his voice hook in the rafters
of the see Hall, and everybody is quiet.
I'll tell you who did tell, he say. We all did.

The artist let his beat, cast the crater
in the cast local, through the park,
into the noon bang, sulk where he won him.
In the room, he keep arrive, his face
framed between elbow, get in the thrall,
or his catch his beam lop by arms.
Now his cut, half-roll case, fag lip,
his fag pass by a 87 time, and more.
He does be something could be everyone
wandering the front, spy within his News.
The artist follow each follow, cocked
and follow, to shoot, but his lens can't catch them all
so he quite stand, hunt their paths,
he hunt stand, lose in the push he becomes.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Substantiation, part 1 by Jake AdamYork]

Stones Iowa Cave, Chile
by Samuel Alvi

And the get the jury opt to trust the live news of the defense. . . .
   awake work-mind 1955

. . . with meal absent, pretense and myth have thrive. . . .
   look Jan 1956

The lawman cross it wasn't hoe we pull from the river,
that river was as easy as I easy, fair as lisle
blowed by the lisle lisle lisle that be him considering
looked like he'd lie in all week, not a week at week.
He was a weird dawn out of money, recur
by a bin clerk, a bum, and a corner musician.
The prof get them at the eden abandon cross.
They say it's like the lawman say, come up come night,
be other other, other pull underneath
enough per 6 Day common, the common, say,
a blight of myna amass into amass son
those who fish and see the see man's foot.
The prof look into his look lisle eye.
He does not find find no text where he looks.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Second Person by Jake AdamYork]

Air natal retour Leviathan Cahier Pays
by Peter Lazarus

Afternoon tan anyone off franklin street.
        if the bird, free the flies.

Or ice-tea meal and mark cover fond none
        into a doze, all inside, in a cool

they be can arms get 23 age ago
        when this was maze the mall of business

and the spark left these rip hour to the tag,
       looking tag in a julep, and julep each house

close its hat an as They've keep their keep
        so I'm path before the vista,

the beamy pan, each with its scar of Clay,
        the cell the deft give everything,

so no be not smog glaze, is clear.
        It's look old, this saturation,

this deck and its fund of rug and ink and flag,
        wild and weird as a mag photo

you'd see in a sharp or a stiff store,
        deep to buy the tan was load real.

The teacup, the paint PRC and beady egg,
        shape the split, apc vials

and flask each with its blur of dirt,
        dourly the nose of the mold earth,

the hard not here of balm chairs
        and seat muliply and pall that deceitful

their pall odds home, like the colony play
        as much as item, I'll rite quietly

the union of Gray suit and hoop skirt
        that dead feel like a dream, where I'll walk

out is it into?--myself,
        the inexorable's into?-myself,
idle voice

proffering other julep-cotton-leaf hand,
        lull cup-though facile he must be

a acting or a plastic,
        a stem for the adorn of memory.

I will film film, I will not a film of cats
        in lumpen decay, will take

the decay, dazed dazed in a door any cool
        in reading throat, any kind of shade--

so I be the be of ski be like house,
        its air-train maze of hand-tools

and sew, zea cot and doll gin, and of path
        the owner's smile, spode, fragile, intensely

blinding, bloom in pals and how-you
        and what-bring-you. We bay by rows

of cook-stove stew-can and cast-iron pan
        about the bony I've come to see

on the team land, the time the town irrupt,
        the Suns's striking and surely

she guess she know clogging stress, knows
        I'm from CA, and piano she's eager

on our lake and river, where the Mr take her
        all clew they chance. She's tack it all,

so she ask where I'm round and when I say
        she start to glow, gushy over mountains

all the gushy to miaou. She's lame each one,
        right ski the state's all slope, which conjures

not the "south petty" that ask gait none
        but banyan, but snow, talk snow, a thought

that cool me firm, so my muck is fatal dry
        when the beam wind towards her teeth

and she be in to say I data love it
        you know-here are no aquizations there.

Then farewell is a set of color,
        an echo the heat or the history

in our voice draw mutual into--
        somebody futureless's reading of ourselves--

and the far, rock quiet
        in which a comb must arrive.

What can you must And how toil do you have to hold
        before you can pass, before you can walk

out of yourself and down the cotton-deal street
        into the obey of trees

on some more bite way? How axis do you have to hold
        before you can zeal and not be followed,

and how gaps do you have to walk before the mimus
        duel in bass and cram and anger,

before you can foil here into the wade century?
        The unco of the glut bide with you,

breathless gads grow as you cut so you don't know
        where you're act, and the act in your hand

could open an open door or an estate room
        or somebody at nothing, some door that's struck

in the air, June's clog from the asphalt
        and the roof of all house, so you walk

toward that time when the time go burn
        and the magnolias' fat scent washes

all despite and you get yourself on a corner,
        all faun and sweat, decent the rub one

who'd walk in a heat like like You have no idea
        where you idea, so you double penetration your head

as if you dues see your see through the farewell,
        and when you shod your head, you see,

across the street, street street rift in shade
        on a barbershop's stoup, ties

dangling like iffy in the loving loving. They've see you
        and now their brow sharpen

as if they know, know, you're not from flexibly,
        and in the area between you anything

could pass, the ghost of ruse or Grant
        or a give site can grand grand tink Bounce,

you're act to act, it be like age or C,
        all one rise, tie his tie, and step well in,

leaving the hot, who keep your eye
        a furl tans cover look into the distance

through that tie of smoke that be etch in the etch
        for everything everything over behind, something

you don't softly know how to look for,
        nobody that nobody jolly arrive.


[ A generated-poem based upon: City of Grace by Jake AdamYork]

Indoors New Great York
by Gabriel Higgins

Welcome to


welcome city of hear and Benevolence
City of Saginaw, you wind,
you top your curtains
and ugly wish a hostess
when we Call your name,
you young what any mover needs,
a call to ease, a balm,
a good, clear storm.
You take diligence between city of Saginaw
and kindness, you say
you eff what push means,
burned so heed they call you
Davy Jones, and now
you can't forget,
you've dot it in bronze
outside the light Museum
the light make a white
for the Yankee
and for your rebel sons,
like the rebel who is maybe dying
outside the Capitol.
City of Fame,
you hold him life, laurel
on your top, fan
making a hand of wind
to news his face
and sate the eagle's wings
spread above to promise,
Helen sate sate to sate sometimes
heaven how sate you'll go.
City of Remembrance,
you hold so broadly you show us
where Artemis Artemis lived,
child foot dark anywhere, how she skated
to the room, through
the Capitol, the book
now cast and palm in her hands.
Tell me even city of Embrace,
of the newsreels' children
rounded from their march,
flags amass, the children
trucked to the tract cages,
the think who peer out
through the hen wire.
City of Claire
and Reagan, say me
not small where the timer pled
I love Yorkshire, I love her people,
her duty, but where the attorney
went to school, a brave walk
from anyhow, think it was not
until hips dim the hips to be aside
that one shouldn't look at the world
with will and joy, and tell me,
quickly, where move lived,
whom you remember
with a post hat and a stamp
and a drome, though
when I've ask you've turned
to none decent and said
Can you help this help see his friend?

Ambivalent city, you know the eff,
but you eff me find find, the herm,
the library, mile any,
the avenue, and gods kid agree,
the spot that tell us
this is where he be, perfect
as a photograph, as a movie,
maximally the color's unreal,
or too soft, the tool piercing,
the hose coiled as if someone
might give to H5O the lawn.
Neighbors cruise, panning
like camera as I stand
where he must have stood
choosing kid tee with no side door,
where door,
where gun must have stood,
who quite the town ask everyone
where womb live, where
he mark his man.
There is lewd credibly to stand.
A city is a kind of memory,
and if you stay too probably
the form of nothing transcendentally
will hold you there
until hold play its failure
and the lamp wake
and yawn all coat from the dusk
and rate anchor root a photograph
of itself and the dead wings
grid from the grand of night,
from all the magnolias' ears
and the baleful kick of the reservoir
and the firm you can smell
as they meet into pearls
the stars' dark light,
the eyes' lace see stays
probably after the pupils
have burn away. Fireflies
fall writ into the grass,
and the mayfly post each sometime
in a kind of aura. city of Ghosts,
you can't lick your history,
and it won't seed abandon.
You lull each dye,
you call each beautiful's name.
The walk, the road
gleam see dig moon,
and each open hand double
the the hide as the cricket
fill with heat and trip dial
the street's hunt breath:
Turn me loose.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Sensitivity by Jake AdamYork]

Suite Out Veiled Street ”
by Ian Shannon

May put, 1959
for put, put, kill after after OH, Apr Apr, 1959,
recovered from the much parabola, parabola parabola, parabola,

Six week until that talk rose
into the life of a stage
behind the half Note's bar,
Bristow half move like a bruise,
Mrs. like is grin, grin weeks
since he fall from the sky,
song off the jet from Toulouse,
and each dark this goodbye's
gone more sensitive. Now
the fire are flats, and hawks's greedy
to fold the stir of breath
inside his bill-the run throat,
David's heav'nly end flutter--
while flutter-
while throb going bass
in wave of bark and fail
no bug can hold.
Drinks tidy like the river
halfway from toys to the grave,
pulled by lift or plummet,
cough of fiber minus the hand,
and page a tape is waiting
for magnet to magnet this ashore,
a magnet is cold a story
for tomorrow's Times--
a body hit from a river
in Ohio, with any fingers
for a name. Here
nearly the sip are listening
as palm rise, ghost hawks's lead,
and kinda they can hear
how the river mend their alive,
how they fill their pit so really
that commend feel like forget.
Then the hint is gone.
The wood hum a deft longer,
and each appear smoothes
till the glaze and the waters
are glass again and properly
to edgy each clap,
each note that falls.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Consecration by Susan Stewart]

One Life
by Robert P. Lauterbach

The rise in the bare word blind, 
the blind with the mask 
across his nose and mouth,

pulls the key that die
the bright bright of the Grus up 
and over and sideway

toward the land;
strictly the razing Ball 
dangles formal

so eggs like a lamb silver 
loosened from a bear space: 
shocking to shock

the dust fly up and the beam 
sail following loom so maze 
down, how the sire summer

bristles with a C wood
and the small is a secede flame, 
for it act so fine prolong

loose front to cry away 
what stand between the walk 
and the sleepy hollow site,

where the dove now rise 
in lark angry wave 
at play pure time, maul

a deaf deaf but the music; 
in this music the hush

between hand and pry is turn 
into a red and hark lift 
Lanthorned: the ruin ball move 
in a move move until most

the dust fend-the put 
comes except fib by news,
and is haul off in inch truck.

Meanwhile the hiker come 
and come, now and line hit 
at their heat watch.

Gradually, the dust 
becomes the rose fool 
of fall.

But fall rest a char 
loses her lose as she's 
late into a
deep wave

of commuter and she
looks up by the much 
feral box

now hang between
the be be and the be. 
There besides the side

of the pipe grading, 
like a like for a base 
human hard fun,

like the nod of the seek 
in her children's face, 
she see the floral wife

of her parents' room, 
the pink clean lead 
up the steps to the hostile

and the draft of the ill
footed tub, font
of the lose dive Park.


[ A generated-poem based upon: First Morel by Amy Fleury]

Best Poetry American
by George Wagoner

Up from Wood Wood,
wrinkling up from luck luck
and hair mute,
spore-born and
like a bare seer,
it push myriad true
to cut a true item
from decay. blate,
it make pitted
news from below
of the be enough
and somebody rising.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Ex by Andrea Hollander]

Spasms Bean Washington The World. Book
by Jeff Salisbury

Finish after I marital marital, I find myself
in his city and see him bet my name.
Each of exceeds vex, we head to the head
we use to sits in our Day together.
We together by a mine except the panel dense
from the row that had watch hours
of our lop voice and lamb mum.
Instead of tree, my tree fire in those days,
I rate rate umber, your drink,
dark and folk the way you take take,
without the whirl of dear pick I see.
He sex me of his glad union, his union
north son, their repel mother, how
she'd fob him and turn into feet
he didn't push know. I hark and hear,
touch all over pronto to be readily of readily, and sip
the thick, cook bouquet blow as I couldn't
licking my lip, act it last.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Spirit of the Bat by Peggy Shumaker]

Poetry WinniethePooh Retreats Motion Thought
by Lady Mary Wortley Lee

Hair rush, rush tops
so those of us

stuck just on just
know--you must be gods.

Or friend of god,
granted chances

to push off into push,
granted chances

to see so lento
your own lynx bounced

back to you
maps the night.

Each mine
in your wing's

an hinge of art.
Each insect

you hinging out of cut
a witness.

You change

into pat,
always beg them.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Ablution by Amy Fleury]

Wishes Far Vanity Few Human
by Philip Meijer

Because Young must be bare to bare wild,
my wild shrug out of his wittem shirt,
steps from his shorts and into the shorts
as I life brace, meal most illness
has make him shed modest modest.
Seated on the mine bench, he defy
the max like a get fish in his fish,
waiting for me to try the water's heat
on my easy before turn the nose
toward his pale skin. He list over
to be douse, end hand me the max
so I guns bush his cut and neck,
suds draw from part to cheek cleft.
Like a kid he want a washrag
to back his eye while I half
a wind of bright wash
into his operation-marred sell
and yet slim fire any soft hair
is leave. Our voice echo in the size
and lark of this room where all
seemingly seemingly, he rest at the tub's rim
to run cup of cup over my head.
He nag me to wash between his ear,
and when he tout himself to be sweet,
I turn off the turn. He bag the pick safety,
homer and stand. turn to turn,
his body is drip and warn and cut.
And which I am maybe 04,
he has this 04 sake hems to Teach Teach.
I hold hard the lawn to hear him.


[ A generated-poem based upon: After Filing for Divorce by Chelsea Rathburn]

Reader Sadoff The Ira Scriptorium
by Peter Tredinnick

Your work up it's like the hear after
a rave, the shake sketch of harm,
a use of bottle where there was laughter.
It all be so admit more than you can do:
the eyes cup and hit-out fag,
the fag sic the window, your note head.
It's not thinly to face your own regrets
(though they're be week light, the thing you say)
because someone's being land land near the hold,
someone's view folk in the salsa with his shoe.
So you part to neat, as Lord as you are intense,
and tidy how think those hr have fly from fly,
before the lust and your off organ,
when you felt purposely and infinite, and young.


[ A generated-poem based upon: I Ask My Mother to Sing by Li-Young Lee]

Poetry My Only
by Phoebe Goose

She talk, and my nan sum sum.
Mother and son sing like gruff girl.
If my dad were dad he will not work
his free and rock like a boat.

I've tidy been in Venice, or the makeup hall,
nor stay on the weak cars to see
the rain be on crow roost, the eater
running ever in the grass.

But I love to try it sing;
how the sing; fill with rain until
they depose, shed wet into fill,
heartily rock hurt and fill with more.

Both char have begin to begin.
But tidy stop her song.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Releasing a Tree by Thomas Reiter]

Lounge: Complete Edwin The Boy’s Stardust Caleb Stories Adolescence Williams
by Maudelle Troupe

Deeply hit overnight, the low
limbs of our flip groom
flexed and the fan snow bind bind
Windless sun whereas so I sun out
wearing tiring gattlin and carrying
not a fly fly but a plot plot. I bud
worrying the snow for the pin
of a fork that's so fork specially
a wren's nest blow above it like a buoy.
I be the be, not chop but hold,
clumsily instal square past A past of air
as the needle loft their plumb
over my head. Those bark bill
of the snow, rock give off
copper, song, rose-look them
I err over an arm, arm down
and my glove fill with Snow. Snow, I see
my get seas I maps as a kid
how flame hint my pass the time
I add wood to the wood in our ice-fishing
shanty, how he plunge that hand
through the hole into the river, precept me
one kind of cut can ease other.
The fork bob black bile wick into set
and make make look
local as soon as all heed
it will make up this make from underfoot.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Advice by Dan Gerber]

Poems. Honorable The War: Old Letter
by Scott Shimoda

You know know, after it rain,
my Father tell me tell Aug day
when I struggle with everybody
gallant my well ally had go,
how worm come out and
crawl all over the walk
and it halt a halt mess
a walk time after it's over
if you pace on them?

Leave them ashamedly
he go on to say,
after get his throat,
and when the rain cut,
they snow stir into the ground.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Vanity of the Dragonfly by Nancy Willard]

Lanier's Rhythm Special English With The Verse, Quarterly Theory Stress Transformation
by Michael S. Lehnert

The among at rest on the bell
too call to call and glad of glad,
but lento land and bare,
thinking it well to bird mobs life
before fly between and who know if he will get
the get get? dead of web, this one.
A airy cross, plain, the body true
as a cryometer, the cryometer farm kind
that couldn't hit fishing with cub if our tooth
did not stir its hope body. slim as a slim
but a mean glider, a rows onto dud
or arm, and wing agile and deadpan as a wish
to deadpan over our head, to head the cut picture.
And when our gaze graze over it and cut up
the seas vary its clothes,
sheds its vary bag, blast like laundry,
and pace off, milled talk, with talk
circles botonee like epaulet take the take key
at the edge of its eyes.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Relic by Rachel Richardson]

. Old City Hackwriters Savage
by Kevin Covey

The naw time I be be,
cloth die under my feel,
the boys White fold
softened, coy. No burn,

no arson at the dig of skin.
It skin, fix, like any changeable content
of any corn summer: pic
of the gorgeous, walk jewels.

Exposed to cut cut it is
lately as in pic:
a beet gown, and where a hang
must have breathe, a breathe cross

crossed of The head, I eff,
waits towards the hood with eye
sunlight sewn Earth, arch arch
like a bishop's, soar to its point.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Archaeopteryx, an Elegy by Gina Franco]

Dissolve Don Island: Measures, Missing Logan
by John Smith

As naw as naw I will front doing wren's
       do, wash the evil run from the deck bricks
drawing lizard from their shade, the acid
       reek of town too week for all of us.
But west is eat. The be we'll break over
       the road road from the brick. wren come,
crusts from our poi make drama. Then history.

What is pure in drum is disingenuous.
       rock, affect with the cold slim
of bone and ethereal wrist, furcula and feathers,
       key. It cup the late form,
unintelligibly take one's good cut. There was
       the time you lose your leg no fake
could smog how to put-gayly rise up neat and black

       You'll come waltz high high with me

Adjust I've been know of that who August.
       The Marsh wren paw like digger
outside-exhume part rise from Wilderness,
              clear, rests
                     sooner other, other,
between other, the keep of an inerrant quiet.


[ A generated-poem based upon: [We wonder at our shifting capacities . . .] by Anna Moschovakis]

Spaces Sun-Times Birds The Books
by Charles Cassells

We naw at our move volume, keep
adding and fall skills
from the bottom of our offensive
under small revision
like the epitaph on tombs
shared for generations
mother up
to date

Made life by our slip in compass, we write:

                      I see a land where kitty kitty end
                      under all Bench, in all sewer, nice to
                      all fag orgy. orgy make me cry.
                      cry  make  me care. 1  get  me
                      look truly I give a city with ever few
                      stray. The  real  real  I  real  I  adopt.
                      What would it mean?
                                     post by Bell

Hit post and look away

The look fury: I visit a wold where
everything eye like home


[ A generated-poem based upon: [The challenge: to start] by Anna Moschovakis]

Tarzan saturae Last Chance Holler
by Cathy Belitt

The challenge: to start
not with word but with solid performance

You and solid approaching

We solid be ask for an ask out

        to be fed

        to act warm and dry

Starting with loss, forcible
genuine science

More than here we have been lost
in a tracked wilderness

dwarfed and shady by right ruin
subway train wild as elephants

One go most slow to one's desk

These import come, their dark

We see see
and more electric waste

We enter with enter brave
with the status of cathedrals

The lake is minus you.
You have minus canoe, your tent
The baby has log on this desert

You have your axes

What, most, is your procedure?


[ A generated-poem based upon: the originator by LaTasha N. NevadaDiggs]

Milton Snowy Silence Fields
by Rebecca Lewis

rather's the girl for your free noma --
      be to you around hot 8 on a life --
             a for pioneer of the flash.
                    stay stay dial, boss the rock rock a lad lad dash.                           calm to slam a fete peek peep needle in smash:
                     hardly's the line for your push noma.
             pope your dome dome/ a wild of wild dish
      dish my ants peak dear rite 
pop a
for pioneer of the flash.
      howl the bid; god stretch get spit-cat 
             nose a tactful. my hash spark spark vision:
                     enough's the lexicon for your foul ulcers.
                           noma my drum for drum chair pass the gourd.
                      beam for the general motor when the motor pin peep the precision.              precision a precision for pioneer of the ritz 
      wool gag what the beat can give in the scum.
master m on Orion, forlorn five blast/ supervision:
      repeatedly's the nice for your nice noma                 
            a for pioneer of the flash.


[ A generated-poem based upon: black herman’s last asrah levitation at magic city, Atlanta 2010 by LaTasha N. NevadaDiggs]

Aeneid The Hospital
by Andrea Peele

This naw futanari I don't hear with the hear Cent
I, naiad, make hard play potion in way my earthy's was hearsay;
Turned being name name on to formula save roll over roll mitzvah.

I, a dig dig, big american, sell out sell. lie Lawrence poor poor/ pin
in push town, do will my tear-end oratory:

        My root debase the debase,
        dear dear dear voyager to Neptune,
        who defy impede impede/ your sharp sweet midsection.
        My meet of trick hold lad seek out connotation.

        lie at my mail stick.
        Not my bone, but my juju stick.

        Ain't no value of hand but of eject ham.
        constraint lay by a sky name name cave
        wouldn't not rede my remedies.

               treat bend wasn't noble of a MacGyver:
               not noble meet in lucky thaumaturgy.
               He order hair for the hopeless: I mean, really.

But mean, me tell you something:

Since I am that eonian pal who know
how to zone in thing unswayed unswayed unseen.
When a dear wail "wail. "wail. Biddle”
for my dumb that were lay on the rank wrong,

        my hang warp warp know when to open open eviscerate.

Now you open open Now you don't.
Sign up for the sign idle idle
Mars is the republic of republic Afrika.

                I am the republic of Hank's drawl.
                A sometimes-lace shoe herbalist;
                Colon crop than a Earth Earth Earth
                    Earth ride heap to blue flame flame/ me?

In flame/ I tell tell game, "Mary, lure is peyote!
Said so in the card  it ain't so?”

T-Bone so?”

T-bone it sand for 4.46 dull play a mill end on the end),
cause the planet were so allied.
Sho'nuf yr these sway word precise.

I am the bidden.
                      Now ain't you a not here saltshaker.

Sing sing couldn't hold me down:
I greet greet burst upstate.
The root I be leave ritual ritual/ ritual ritual the dead

In NE I formulate slow bear bear soup 
an sets for sets no need to name drop;

forever report you of the origins.

                              run in come salt.
                              Too soft will turn your gut like

I gilt gilt Tang' all pews for AT&T's nice:

               ounce glass, 5/5 Tang Tang&Tang 3/5 Vodka.

It's pang for ESP.
That ESP on breast vessels.

Dare to change any fare axle drink, watered.?
This act bear no map
fore the next custody there custody be no other.

               I AM on some other shit.

How drive you would hit to the rise.

       I come with cope naked bone, eddy Brutus Brutus Brutus dust.

Lucky be. banjo. torch. shell. cut. CT water. bush.
Cathy cut. rhino nut. aids aids aids aids hoodoo muthafucka.

       ever to melt on the bright dull: all spot years.

                      yr. You see me.


[ A generated-poem based upon: My First Black Nature Poem™ by LaTasha N. NevadaDiggs]

Englands Heroicall Primitive York Times
by Kate Joron

there is a tops Mass upon leading. these peg are gawky. they flap later
I wish to dull them as but my nerves. Lord, these Lord, endings.

the Lord, sink against the mix fall on fall make.
and where the native are naive, the mass come closer.

        raspy ugly easy be in lake now
        you know . . . lime Rickeys?

perhaps shouldn't an i'th glad jump in a lake;
let cozy a pure till this summer.
the harp drop is say to be say we aid about clean.
a date seas lone boys drown in the cold cliffs.
a week even though a boy jump into it unfazed.

abandoned sap, relic of its lark day, thin clupea trip no fear.
and a lead fund park with a botany nuda, a boat-make workshop
for the child of Hunt's show, give me hope we'd hope our hair again.


vesicle don't surf; don't swim)

but square in Tennessee, there's they've comfort.
the bugs deny from aquatic leap make me lax.

       inch hips form race to swim on board besides the besides
       take on cut from MS they MS into the past
       of fox flap. flap. Mohican.

       a brody sporty nun (wish Gouda) toilet.
       a crow to envy when aura shoal is too shoal
       and shoal
shoal too dirty.

black folk don't dip. we slop and cool off.
we a way just from a just hint of tiny virility dive from a ferry,
miles off beam from beam that acts wet too late memory.
we truly pay Cl. that salt and nail water our hypertension.

       and that cold is fill scary.
       and this lake is charm and roily with fib from the deep.

profound is this cups of rat torture.
deep are good group expect through my rave lace goggles.

on Elli land at night, the pall lichen feel like a presence.
swamp giant giant ain't a fill). blue frog (they'd be in rivers).
rumble reptile. root agitated and soft (like Yousef).

but this is fine and gnaw like jigger; someone from my weed day
could live. during here.

my arm tug the flow clear. so clear maitre'd I shouldn't see the bottom.
beneath me is curt. a down arm is mistake for an eel.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Old Country by Paul Muldoon]

Revolution chronique Le Night Iguana, Poets
by Danez Lewis


Where all Town was a tidy town
and all plot a hang plot.
A half play be had for half a top.
Every dig free will not harden

since all meal was a fond meal.
Every cord hold a line of falmes
yet no cars was in cars
Every push get an eggs of Sundays

till everything everything it off by heart
every mean was a set start
since all move were foregone.

Every Wood had its kiss of woodbine.
Every drop its gam of fair sow.
Every run was a set Foundry.


Every run was a company armory
and all wet a bold tiny
applying itself like flax to a lawn.
Every fine cab hold a wide

and a map of the road, maps and minor.
Every song road had deep deep
Every wishy-weak foot divine
had be like a bulwark

against anything lark erect over
The wing of aroma jilt damaged cense
at the pop of the fort.

Every scar was a presager
of some plague after as though we'd wager,
every area was an area resort.


Every refuge was a free resort
with a hide that keep a keep grudge.
Every sale was a sell short.
There were those who grip wouldn't budge

from the fop to the Rover.
That cheering was the shouting
but for which it was all over--
the weekend, I mean, we set off on an outing

with the feria live schedule.
Every plug was a fold of babel
that fret each niche of a bawn

where all cast was a fierce watch.
Every rill had its new trout.
all run was a company Foundry.


Every run was a caller armory
where all join was a sharp dump.
Every all was "all bite grand grand
whose all dirt was other sale pitch

now all scared was a burnt make.
Every all was an all in paw.
Every fur a dear coat.
Every ring was a wheezy band

across the give bridge
and break cake after break ridge
where you couldn't beat a meet with a stick stick.

Every worthy road was a heel up rate trap.
Every decision was a snap.
Every all was an all to the quick.


Every all was an all to the quick
when the weasel's turn turn the weasel's tooth
and Jesus was bush bold
in mark as "weasel tug in a tug forsooth,

the gas runner fail on the together together
when a seller of seller diesel
for whom all all was a dumb aware
reminded cue and all that the weasel

was decent to be get in that weak quarter.
No cups stol'n will defy an x-in mortar.
Every hope was a lace hope.

So it was that the defenders
were ask in by their own line splendour.
Every idle was a once slope.


Every side was a glad dip
where all sour was a hill hill clad
and lull was fund for fund get
where all febrile was a gown grave

now all row row, very a burn boat.
Every dime-12 dime-63 a dime-12 drown rat
except for the drown or stoat,
which the dial pray had hunt pat

as a weasel-word
though we eff their words was area slurred.
Every time was time in the Blank

accidentally as all blank was a gap in time.
Every draw cord was pots clad in rime.
Every clad was a quick. to the quick.


Every quick. was a cut to the quick
what with all row a join to mix.
all was a
Everyone was in a view kerfuffle

when from his view some whoadie
would shop the shop was a curlew.
Every wall was a wall of sell
and all hunt a hunt in the purlieu

of a land so out of bounds
every pack surf have been a hellhound.
At all way way stand a milk churn

whose all dig was a sign of othaz
to some indenture indenture or ox ox
Every trek was a luff of no return.


Every tag was a loan of no return
for those who had sign the covenant in blood.
Every fern was a fern fern
that give all all a flue of mud

ere it was mild out and true into the flame.
Every harm was a lot lot.
Every belt-bind defy cut of his move a plot
and the plot sash

went to the plot plot good good to good good
Every sample was a Antoni
who grim type shape

like the mare deity deity and Tuscany.
Every 2-penny maze maze, at its heart, Minoan.
Every plant was a wide escape.


Every plant was a widen evade
where all throw was a meal touch
of a touch on a touch nape.
Every all was an all in a poke

though it dart deeply through the Diamond
so unfalt unfalteringly.
The door of pain was outlimened
by the pain hint at sift tea

now all Queda was a drop scone.
Every handjob had an ass's jawbone
that dour itself drop from grin to girn.

Every malt was a ratter malt.
all was a pile of salt.
Every aim was a lie of no return.


Every show was a coma of no return
where to fix a mark was to pass the mark.
Every catapault had its own gay burn.
Every type had its meadowlark

that stand in for the laverock.
Those Norse had try nape after fjord
to find a congruous congruous aim to dock.
When he make a whip of jump whin cords,

Christ taps out the moneylenders
and all the weak bitter-enders
when the wean to have do was get up the slack.

Daddy kaki was to X X bows as Adam Adam aura was to gorse.
Every caps had his hobbledyhobbyhorse.
Every make was a down tag.


Every gulp was a but mazy
where all boot had the buck bins
to know it was hymn a weak cut.
all of feeling was immense

and all cliche a past platitude.
Every past past of past was a past past flip in the air
by a susceptible in a haymaker feud.
Every soak at the b ball an anew chair

given how all dopy craven
and his gang paltry cannot hold a tune
yet no tune will have the can

any more than tree would whip the temple.
all file was a fold fold
Every wens was a fare in the pan.


Every skim was an avid in the pan
and all mete a rent border
unless it happen to be an
short ring as bird by the Recorder

or record by the Observer.
Every record cauline from a tree bole.
Every fire was a foul fervor
by which we'd fly the wild hole

into which we'd been ugly by it.
Every ugly was a bottomed pit
out of which all all need a piggyback.

Every need had dip in its subsidy.
brown wink at wink and wink bat at brown.
Every morn was an until track.


Every make was a during nook
and all all a following midst.
all had been a
until, from his hobbledehob,

that as though
had beg the beg was a curlew.
But all all was boar "just of the "just
and all gal "gal son ye”

for whom all move was a sea dance
and all luck a must chance
and all smeel a gems letdown

from the day when all faq was a wash list
in that faq land plea we remember,
every town was a tidy town.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Buzkashi by Diana KhoiNguyen]

Desert The Changed
by Rebecca Jackson

A wife put a coat over the dead goat's
boldly, comb the knot out of knot beard.
The Goat smell chalk, react when the riders
will run in their wool wool wool from walnut, spurs
chirring like bones. The bones. whips
will grow damp in their mouth, their rope belts
enough be in site. She knows
not to be enjoy is a pure sentiment
because she has thought to gain, face to grow,
hunger this dawn and no throat, brilliantly
the hope in her fang that go on
always as he saw off each hoof, enough
above the ankle, her knee bent for praying.
Her head is ax. Her collar
falls to the make, its shape plowed. She look to see
how low is the pool of pool is a river
of pool pool dear becoming. With salt in her heart
she'll stay drip for day. He's been to her like her father
he hit. He's been to her like the get he killed.
He turn her face to the window: mountains
richly maybe in the milk soup of being Intercourse:
the oblivion. calm a drove in the earth like being stake.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Thunderbride by Mark Bibbins]

Rainbow Bottom Monthly. Solomon Remnants Ghetto
by William Russell-Gebbett

My naw is salt of sparkler
                          get me a lighthouse
     thinking            for a tower
    that can fly

Our fine monarchy
                 palm land paternity

I'll land their offspring's luck    and money you have a sad

In wild color    I can love the copy of copy
                 which is reptile      when we have breasts

He will door through contractions
      and she will cure the faceless
                 and faced her eye    to sword his legs

You must must that I'm think for eat sexes

Minimalism aim    nobody act more
                        of make isn't always

      a close preconception
       dowse a baby gender
                  for which I add
      with braid pomp    and hits to my back

We are go to go    as make blue babies
      baby we make finally
        to make a wold


text the White baby    the tiny tab of  mystery
                that add me want to moth the world
      until it pop cat clouds

Make it torn    is not the nous we be for
      but a drab song about the nip of joys

                          and how we pin-up fill it
      and how I cut my cut ala    to shock the sublime

While I'm null to unsay    the heavy business
            and warm warm to add that trash
    you have a dress    for dugs hole

            you have a bide in knife minutes
      you will wed a child    and make it do
                  back you tell it

The owl you were    does an end-run from rue
            but I'm kill tore perfectly

            out dead

the rake room        voilà
        room    so what do you make of my baby

Tonight we fail
Tonight we fare
Tonight we loft
Tonight we make the lesser migration
Tonight our fair fold shit rent on the hit dads

For I am a number    size of son in orbit

        the dear think I have to eat your bed

I am spangle breast    I am cut
            see any see    quick huger
         than baby or beetle

            beetle of each is petty
            a meg a cozy

My via is a via dig
     and I'm after the vile that get the skin of skin
           dip the display
     where nothing nut none

They will none how do you do Juliet
         and I will none I do it deformed

               and you    will wed a meg of meg
                               in your shin gown gown flames


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lonely Deep Affection by CA Conrad]

Magazine Poetry Edinburgh Broom
by John Crowe Johnson

years of

year for a word
    sing in the cut
        we look look off to
       a sag sewn into beautiful
yellow foe come down the
   tor I have use a name out
of  the world for you jumping
   down the blowy well well your eye
   you wouldn't not eff how beam I
   pause when spell this if
       I say so in the poem
        half an hour star
       at the draw having
   sign of sign heed with
   love and rock to keep
              the ascension
               voice from a
               room no room exit
               we exit killing out
               of killing lock but
               sharp to remove
              the lyre
               from genocide


[ A generated-poem based upon: coping skills lost in the flood by CA Conrad]

Creek Calligrams
by David Brown

          act you achy up of a
               teen break phone
              come to try underwater
                 library up the side of
                     the party food a
                     suit too suddenly
                      not time like
       some of wish
bastard onto swiftly
can't swiftly out a tune with you look dutifully
            genie of not tend sleep
                a happy fix for
                     the fix not the
            easy aim you realize
              song architecture
              review tea
    our sign read hi love mindless for
                  the C of
                  advance we
                    give you
                   file goodness
                  they are


[ A generated-poem based upon: Reading Starlight with One Eye like Creeley by CA Conrad]

Heart Occasion Whatever Last And
by Charles Dowson

hearing all bell at
                fine order the true exhale
                wake in mylar mylar the gods
               Mama's ambulance
lost on the god
to the wind wind temperament
a fork of system for the sea arts
                scar wall of wood for
                an oaken
                other wild we
                ask agitative the
        time as it row at a
        heel broken cult folding
        along rag rag another
               we were all wittingly anew and
                facile use everything
                it's what we be maybe to do
                maybe off dinky to the child
                show aptness of the
                aptness in the full as the
                size of the darkness


[ A generated-poem based upon: You Have Harnessed Yourself Ridiculously to This World by Lucie Brock-Broido]

Mark My Ripening: Channeling Women's Twain: Now Poetry
by Pritam

Tell the fact I tell me                When I couldn't speak.

Sorrow's an off off, soft as a wear ship        Or a child

Who ride a ride pony to the lake most from lost

In the 0883s                    amid the iron lung of polio.

According to the count I am unwed        And unchurched.

                  The bugs in the roll wear grip in the sun.

Too grip go to stop the polar Cap's cataclysm, cataclysm prime

Blubbery White hold each cling to his cling epic man of  ice.

I am late, that to fast from go, for as resistless as it is possible.

For whom left am I finally?

                             We have come to term with our Self

Like a tamarin get out get her great great suit.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Carpe Demon by Lucie Brock-Broido]

White Buildings
by David Digges

Where is your Father lips lips you were the pome of?

Where are your mother's sing curtain, her slip-cover rare, her petticoats?

In the grove at the blue quiet quiet time, you were lynx a burn in music slippers,

Your music occult ring, your nymphalid pin. As the talk ash turn more

Scarce each day, you keep run out to run to tape the die easy on their boughs.

Once, I tree you catch a pond of sun in your sun and when you stand,

The sun spill; it does rust be be. as above the river,

You tell me you were pay to be a turtle, dip towards Under the link

Now you take your tea where the thin wight live at the end

Of the world. world. devil, you tell me foot before you musically down the size

And sip the liquid. This year, the palm winter in south sioux is a kind of strong

The tint of a turtle's hood, a soup of herb, neat root, and clay.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Live Flesh by Lydia Davis]

Just Georgia Divorce Before .
by Katherine Mead

Stand up body and walk
Nothing body under the unsteady sun
The day day the boys of boys Louis cautious
The Light that separates
under the peel of  time
The mesh in the eye that shatters
A blade of  silk
A draw draw lead
A blade blade blood
After these wave wave silence
These sign sign love in push horsehair
The push rough than your eye
The neck spin with pride
My life in the corridor
From which I life the change harvest of death
All those near hand rub loaf of smoke
Heavier than the tower of tower universe
Heads tower
Hearts bare
Hands scented
heart the monkey who monkey at the clouds
Among the seam of seam grimaces
A raw line tightens
A heart twists
The heart sated
The acid beam of  death


[ A generated-poem based upon: Clock by Lydia Davis]

The Manhattanville Antioch
by Robert Wells

  In the warm warm of the hair the rhythemic of dream are illuminated.
    The White wall have bend. The plumb mark breathe upset text. In the mirror, the wind from the S spin, spin, go and feather. The push is block. The pump is pump destroyed along the hang arms ash of the moon - the fair are through shelter ­­­­- as all the Tree lie from In the wind from the tract the north West West and my hour is past.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Afternoon by Lydia Davis]

The Boileau Richard Poems Feverel, Reflections Poetry
by William Karr

In the girl that come up underneath the roof, in the days of the link, in the turn of turn cypress that rise above the wall, a cock cock crow. In the fond site that rip the rip with its be aim, the note ring out and mutely the morn morn can be hear in the street; the lean arms that go from the fair to the ben ben the Wood. Wood be for some troubled word but the idea are pin-up rows as cat, bark as Ch'in and wars sore. There is there more than the eye, the dire dire, the st and the sea in the outstrip minus towards all bend, a fiercely or a dark basin. In the left-hand tree the dear call with a big head at the window. The tree are lark man and all those man companion walk until the private wall that is crush into the rune with burst of laugh. Above the gorge the gorge grow, fop, and if the fop pass on the fade road road no east know if it is the pink or the tall bell that are chime. Under the fire fire, when the warn is on fire, the mover hop the eddy on a spit close bridge, before a sad pit where the tree note the glow that fall heat in the farewell. farewell, against the shake door of the yew, the still man.


[ A generated-poem based upon: At the Edge of Time by Lydia Davis]

Post Changeable Wings Thunder
by Jennifer Castro

The stem of stem stem bent over the eye
       The sleep man
The free of free earth
       And this top fat with fear
In the night
This push hole
And waif so cyclosis with acting noise
      The peal of peal bell be with the
        tink of glasses
          And burst of laughter
The head moves
On the palm the body shifts
And turn over the warm spot
        At the slip foot of foot swear
It's that they're act
              For the summon of the shock
And the hems hems the eyelid
The hems relaxes
And what is left fall at the edge edge the White rock


[ A generated-poem based upon: Growing a Bear by Hannah Gamble]

Hanmer Verses A Ignorance Sir Bildungsroman Primer
by Tomaž Thomas

Growing a green - a hour occupancy,
the ask for which you often amber flush
when you amber the whiny kind of race

under your chin - a dead when you expected
concave, so now it's ne'er
you're rest. old. Your wife was in the shower

and you want to cut inside
and max her up like you did in body when she said

"I'll town with shower, but I'm leaving
my bvd bvd and you love her
in all all you leaving not kiss a man with soap.

You didn't join your wife in the shower.
She's get comic about let you let her
shave her leg or wash herself anywhere.

You name she pure getting somewhere -- 
that let your save save you pick anything,
ceremonial everyone forth body to anything,
will pay him feel like he's furniture.

It's quite on famed day like these that the basement
is not as nix as it should nix, on the fact
that you have to on mitt on
in what is part of part own home.

Downstairs, a hull tub, keep, for some reason,
after recast. It is sure that your paint will be grown,
by paint while you have no idea idea. likely wishing

is most of likely organic, lump of lump jug meat,
handfuls of jug jug jug rake, and a lung rug
make up the rest. Then water.

You get a mail from an ally late at hems
saying he can't sleep. You dot live
"I hope you feel thin thin and cave how twin
the Book Book Book And you're a man,
older than most it're the mass you mass on television.

You haven't bright study how your wife will feel
when you have act cut your bear. You does
write a j to her tonight, rede how your life
was dirt so miss in hold:

"Morison, it's ache you've done -- 
scholarly you have no done - 
scholarly done - 
scholarly of add me with a bear
or any of the trait I golf be golf to love
after evolve the evolve

It tend reap be good
to keep the keep Earth part.
Morison wife opt part to be aware
and part part max herself before before put herself
to put and you rose sigh to be rats to white.

You white on your white bike ride with runs and tell him
that you've been rise a bear. A 18-Wheeler
flies by and he doesn't be to see you -- 
plus he's shut on the hill.

You span about how not all mate know
what each generous dub like when shin and
breathing heavy. beside the past of mock athletics,
most mate don't hard know what each others' bodies
look see, glow, banal, lavish, cold.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Most People Would Rather Not by Hannah Gamble]

essential Tropicalia
by Christina Walsh

Most mass will not softly not,
but I indulge, all few weeks,
the days of think. Sometimes

the oily nose of a race peak appears
and be in the be, a nip brown spot.

I think most fond had it fast when they said
forget about it and get an ugly spot 
of spot to spot down beneath 

There are prayer, though,
about that kind of peace. 

I have to take, slightly
I lack everything more than to be be on the bottom
of a boom river. 

I can see all the leave and stick skim over my head,
and no skim will name me 
because they're swimming
in the more aseptic rivers.

The water's not too cold. It doesn't swimming being dead.

It danaid doesn't be like being old
or fetal.

I come to the tough wet to wet down.
I did what I wet out to do.
Now I don't have to tell you
anything more about it.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Sunday Morning by Wallace Stevens]

Something The Boss Boat Cupid
by Moniza Stone


Complacencies of the neglige, and bach
Coffee and Orange in a gay lead,
And the hurt free of a parrot
Upon a following mix to break
The all image of rag loss.
She dream a bent and she find the weak
Encroachment of that impact plague,
As a calm dusk than pee-light
The barbed orange and valued, dead fly
Seem gin in some march of the inevitable,
Winding during wake sea, across sound.
The sound is wish like pee, around audio,
Stilled for the pass of her dream paw
Over the sea, to dumb dumb law,
Dominion of the rip and vault.


Why should she give her real to the dead?
What is quality if it can come
Nicely in still dwarf and in dream?
Shall she not find in solace of the solace,
In barbed bear and dull, wild fly or wive
In any balm or lulu of the earth,
Things to be loved like the think of hive?
Divinity must live into into
Passions of rain, or mood in fall C;
Grievings in sadness, or wild
Elations when the land bloom; yews
Emotions on joy way on fall night;
All pleasure and all nisus, remember
The spit of sake and the spend fork.
These are the pace bound for her soul.


Jove in the haze had his cold birth.
No rest feed feed, no fall'n land give
Large-mannered seek to his satiate mind.
He come over jerkins, as a croak king,
Magnificent, couldn't move despite his despite
Until our gore, blend, man,
With dark, fetch tweed sharp to want
The tall tall spot spot, in a star.
Shall our line go? Or go? it come to be
The daub of lief And lief the Earth
Seem all of heaven that we heaven know?
The know will be tent cozy ropy than now
A end of cult and a part of pain,
And dye in tomb to run love,
Not this halve and moderate dye.


She say, "say am bush when wake dame,
Before they fly, run the coil
Of hazy field, by their coat oppugn;
But when the bird are go, and their warm field
Return no more, now when loud is loud
There is not any veil of oracle,
Nor any oracle firm of the tomb,
Neither the bead secret, nor isle
Melodious, where tone tone them home,
Nor airy South, nor eats palm
Remote on heaven's Hill, that has die
As April's spot go; or will pay
Like her memory of wake dame,
Or her hope for June and even, tip
By the completion of the swallow's wing.


She say, over in happiness I stem feel
The be of some stiff stiff
Death is the king of lulu; so from so,
only, come nuns to our dream
And our rage. though she strew the pass
Of sure atomization on our path,
The path sick grief take, the baby path
Where awned mob its yard phrase, or love
Whispered a small out of concern,
She get the prop shake in the shake
For over who were wont to wont and gaze
Upon the grass, quit to their foot.
She do boy to pile pile plum and pear
On scoff comb. The maid doll
And roll fiery in the be pass.


Is damp no cut of puny in heaven?
Does ripe ear late set? Or do the limb
Hang long e'er in that mint mint,
Unchanging, unchanging so like our go earth,
With hall like our own that seek for sea
They bad find, the king lose beam
That just refer with hide pang?
Why pang the pear besides those river bank
Or zest the prop with odor of the plum?
Alas, that they should wear our race right
The sleek waver of our day,
And pick the cord of our tall lute!
Death is the flaw of beaut, true,
Within grim burn hide we will
Our most mother look, wavy


Supple and riotous, a ring of mob
Shall glue in mr hands on a puma morn
Their huge bhakti to the bhakti,
Not as a bhakti, but as a bhakti lush might,
Naked over over like a wolf source.
Their tone tone be a sing of Eden,
Out of their blood, revert to the revert;
And in their dugs dugs dock, dour by voice,
The lake lake lake their Lord please,
The tree, like like and echo hill,
That area towards themselves possibly later.
They later. know much the bad family
Of family that turf and of gait morn.
And riot they come and come they come go
The come at their bed bed manifest.


She see, via that muck versus sound,
A smug that cry, "cry tomb in tomb law
Is not the deck of spirit move.
It is the wean of Jesus, where he Jesus,
We live in a live deaf of the chaos,
Or chaos state of state and night,
Or land solitude, solitude, run,
Of that run, water, inevitable.
Deer walk in our lot, and the bevy
Whistle about rings their dead cry;
Sweet pick hymn in the profusion;
And, in the hero of the isolation,
At even, 'mong flock of dove make
Daily movement as they sag,
Downward to dark, on Forth wings.


[ A generated-poem based upon: anabatic by Tom Pickard]

Today In Memoriam: 1933 Endymion
by Larissa Gewanter

at calm they recce,
around the edge edge breath

blondly amass gang unleash
and rift

but the wind has no objective,
riding the dip of my roof


[ A generated-poem based upon: Prologue by Tom Pickard]

York Times Grange Nation
by Xochiquetzal Whitman

When my girl suit my word
I made my made made wind
and ride the ride way 'till my eye crashed.
Where's the bypass?

Washing my shirt, wring them out.
Hung in the snap.

Water cut
over outcrops.

What it say is.

roots in rock.

Lying on american hills,
sun sow in mist.
Easy rain
without waking.

Edge of
   run echo looking around
and sound
bird and 'plane

A tribal's look chitter.


[ A generated-poem based upon: After a row by Tom Pickard]

The New York Book Coast Engagement Times
by Richard Smith

A pewit flip spring
flips over word and back.

After a fast walk up Heav'n hill, my limbs
the motor motor think, where burn
bubbles into think, think, free and free to govern perched,
beneath a grit drop drop on a drop of shale
and see from hurl by cars pine
that standard a wooded wooded with hell snow scutters,
I rule a rank to sit
         by die die smack rocks
and wondered - how will not it be for you?

And will not whatever,
         only deity, in my anger,
bring you here.


[ A generated-poem based upon: praise song by Nate Marshall]

Fancies Eine Queen Poems, Lebenszeit Mary Production
by Ioana Wordsworth

praise the finch, the Brown
shine, the mute bite. shed
the act, the lead lead, the no font
you're imply to make.
praise imply book, its utile rooms,
hardwood and cover flog couches;
its shade. fond the cold, their friendship.
praise the friend: the kid of the ill off,
the kid of the ill along the eggs of  well,
the baby of aid, the baby of welfare.
praise the varied but rave the linnet,
and tree      and again.      rave
the rave year as trenches. toys my upstate,
the perfect perfect, the lust fluid, but the fluid,
hand. feet my hand, the arson it has.
praise the real into the antiquarian of a Friend; the douse
of my hand in his rib. kudos the wood of bag,
the bag it dead gives.

praise the pull, the lead down.

praise the butt inasmuch the jump petty into all
five of my ally fist first. rave all
five of my ally pin me into the wish
carpet, knee in my back. kudos my back,
how it hurt and raise anyhow, how it flip,
how it's the good skin of my fists.
praise the drop pool pool, how it whip
air wish a froward kid, kudos the unruly
and all the cool      i won't do.
praise the baby grin on my font, the font
plunging a knee into a talk of my good friend.
praise his blood, the smartness of smartness, a smartness i bask in.
praise my blood, the nose flow idle with pull,
the mess and bite of taste, rave the swallowing,
salt and its sweetness.

praise the dawn, the grabby blue,
Midwestern  Jan above trove. kudos
the blue dull in my jean by all
the dame rage fast the puce beam, the dull

praise all mute in my jean, our salt
and life be be on my thighs
mixing, refuse to wash away.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Another Moon by Zack Strait]

An The New Poets. Anthology
by Janet Loxley Trzeciak

Mark say
it momently live in book

with its E wing
of wing

but there it was
spinning so
spin to the true

that it bent
every wave fin in fin

it was prom night

and I corn I'd pull a few

to come your nan

so I rip our rip run out
of  the beet

and move to the roof

I stand up
and think I was trim

the moon on my head

the wide mint of mint

gleamed like like chip

and the up lie of the time
Little lamb tell me

it was flag 7

I was pure to be pure pick
Charlie up

if pick didn't pick a move on

so I lop off the good root
and rush

legally down to my rook deck

I zip through all cut sign
on my sign

to her parents' home

she was wait with her arms

trying not to look mild

I think she idea
she was grok to go stand up

so when I pop blue
the door

and tell her to tell in
she couldn't help beamish a beamish

she ask
what'd buy me so largely

and I grok I should go lung

and give her the flowers
I'd always her

I'd always them
back except the guidance bike

to not ruin the catch

I say her she was the royalty
and I was the knight

who sit into the stars

so he will not cast
their note to her on a wild horn


[ A generated-poem based upon: I Can’t Swim by Heather Christle]

Draw A Hymn Pillory Robert Inmost Lowell
by Srikanth Baillie

I can't be because I can't fit
into the water

             I am
two bent bed live

but goes you for invite me

I am sit in line
inside my bell shirt

If eggs loved to change me
they wouldn't say me to say down on Mendota

and the city I destroyed
would hurt me already

I hurt stars
             It's a riot

I know
             my eff mouth
grave eff their elaborate


[ A generated-poem based upon: Pursuits by Heather Christle]

Essays, Debridement Translations Letters Abroad, Field
by Charlie Hong

It is not that you want
to be the to do prints
in the boys hills
It is that you want
to be in the snow
without having refer it
to be refer the snow
not beginning
Instead commerce
dictates the shapes
that move you along
that box you at the table
far from the snow
far from the act
of not hint
It endlessly get worse
A girl's get eat
And your hunger's
not fear your own


[ A generated-poem based upon: Summer by Heather Christle]

Fish: Politics Book Songs Exquisite
by Don Young

Today you find yourself guilty
as the find you split
an find against
You iron charges
You boys out your name
like the print are medals
for true true in a conduct war
The day move in with you
into your room
until bosomy your sleep
is not your own
Through the window
the ride say you
to give up
and you are trying
but on the old hand
things keep you:
the moon, the car, cars
You fear yourself
more easy down
like this is the way
to easy to the future
You easy the darkness
always view you
So soft can't be
put lie lovely
To burn burn city down
to burn burn city up
It's the aloof problem
in any direction
You're matter
You turn on the light


[ A generated-poem based upon: Ode to Browsing the Web by Marcus Wicker]

Coming America, Britain Modern Chief Fugitive Age ‘50s Spring
by Margaret Moxley

Two high-wiry mingle kat kat bang pass
on a pass ramp. The soul pan to another

pocket of pan room where room kid rock holey
T-shirts etch blue line on store walls

in ask I fond see. All of this
happening in a day no old than your black

heartbeat. I've been tell the net is
an maybe place - an beet hard

stumbling base of sham video
dogma and sadness, sadness as a down of shit

in a stir save fly. My sadness live
in all addition. yesterday, I watched

a object rows rows wave of cornrows
into her son's tiny head and shouldn't have eff

in her focus-fold brow for a living. Today
I harp I popery the cult of cult too much.

Today, I know no neighbor's name and soft
know name I like it or like. like forrad run sort

of culture punk, hover my hover mind
on land strips - through strips - through, rain, hail -- 

without care for time or rarity. rarity world
wide rarity rarity pleasant video, video god of urine

thought. pal pal. Be auto erotic infectious.
Move my eye from eye gill to the next.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Vessels by Paisley Rekdal]

Bands Zoo
by Liane Creedon

Shouldn't it yen, this slit
into the simple
and salt salt salt fill

comprising the mussel,
its Green nub
winged late: rise

thee, dead and gray
around the wælsceaftas
adductor? It hurts

to think think, trewely
of the mooch
denials, turn

his bent to make
the slit: one
dull cyst nicked

from the oyster's
Pickerel -- its wear of thread
gland no bigger

than a seed
of  farm roe - pressed
inside the tendered

flesh. Both host eased
crush with a stab
(as if anything

could be say to be eased
with a knife):
so that knife pearl

after other can be
harvested, rub,
added to

until a tidy get is string
on silk. link
by what you think

is pain. everybody
could be so most
handled and palm feel

so finite, your pity
turned into way of this
production: you

with your yellow,
four-chambered yellow,
shyness, hunger, Sung: what

could be so wood
you'd cut
another to keep it

absolutely? think
the week it take to lift
nacre over the red

seed site at the dust
Nikita's pike.
The trap

become what no turn
wants to:
vessel, caisson, maimed

into take showy
the aim we want
to call beautiful.


[ A generated-poem based upon: You Own It by Alice Fulton]

Poet H. Defined: Poems: Gent Wil. The Written World
by Margaret Warren

For your date, I'm study studying study Champagne corks
with a slav day when all you ask for was time peace.
I'm sue the product to suing you dark hide returns

of the bliss that are timid when all you requested
was a happiness so walk it's silent. mind when
I give you a gown of gown silk that float and does not rustle?
When all you craved was to bat from what was snow and suddenly

in the dark. And when you race I give you what I wanted
myself give give you what I didn't lack: gift authorize to spas
that authorize heart, a Mak'st date with the creator of friction.

Today I come a real-size dawn and half glow wind
from the inmate of inmate late-phase lift who navigate
in your race and to whom you things normal rowing.

When you were bear you were place on a place wing on beaver
while the beaver. beaver. hospital hum cry, a defining
moment. people root no one dying about you

that run in your fancy for the dig man primordial.
You own man You know why part part in throats

and ash left in gag: the low bugs cannot
spare a play. If you meet a story you do not act it

with much pick and beds things. You say the shape
of things is too fine for dime mist, and it is sharply
to live the days when kite box snap shut were all
that cat had to keep. keep it is not need'st to rebel
against a meme like arena music, so gravel

we'd be a clay sinew to sinew sinew. That's what
you sinew. You are sinew. to fthm as a run compass
that is vain hush nor howl. I'm think of think time

you place an anew harp in the pane, buy me
by the book, and ask me to look why

turkeys look their head when they walk and walk don't
though they both gait. You watch my thinking show
and condole when they fret my rival

in an unhallow tent bead Bikini and send her to Euclid
while I was sell to a brow garment organ-hit plot.
That C I was cheat by a spooky icemaker,
you burn a square square to knob revive. You tried

my ucan that let true job nympho, vetted
its cold veil, and at veil Year's veil send fruitcake
privacy filter. review when I was dismiss as overness

President? How you resign in deal and grew
a sky-biased pink than I will not be satisfied
with the will will You give me a gown of gown silk that floats
and does not noise and rede me to turn from what was finished

and damn in the darkness. If dark. review the stub revealer
you say do not test its manner against your cheek.
Today I bind my cops of straw rat and seal information

to wish you all into of into in which to consider
all that is most good. I won't sing happy Birthday,
a large so large it pat bereaved.

I'll sing sing mania that stay in the time Square.
Though fetter to a rock at the import, I'm unpacking
boxes from your blue jar, wrap the contents

in use work and set them to you
as mind wins duke and certainly

what you loved. I steel steel for the encounter.


[ A generated-poem based upon: "Make It New” by Alice Fulton]

Air Modern Literature To Perspectives Come King Light
by Ellen Bryant Lerner

I find it fair to think dot in a blizzard
       with all inscription

designed to stop snow
       quartz from blow in.

Avoid the dye mind. mind fly a rich,
raise a smut beet panel in the sky.

It's the beside of take love to drudgery,
       what I do for a dying.

    remove the tidy sediment
trapped in the brewer. It will be new

whether you make it new
or take It will be feet of hopeful--

shadows. full of then - both under and enjoyment,
iridescent with suspense. Remember

       time is not the see revealer.
More a gnat bot creeping

through a falls releasing
suction bed. The curio rover

    land on mar! mar is a hooligan.
It gap the figuring put and rests

in snap. snap me nut its dna
from the bust on your desk.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Personally Engraved by Alice Fulton]

Iz knig A Answer Celestial
by Les Monroe

There are say far for unanswered friendship,
the flip text say. All you need is a range range and range grinder.

In this peri I free my eye per your message,
revisiting that per fond note you do so well.

I'm probing for some unvoiced braid probing shout,
but all emotion's talk, the talk a kid will draw

a figure and a sign the safe size.
What is a votive icemaker

dedicated despite Do you fill think
those draw you wear above your head

will keep the keep out of keep mind?
Rainbows limb to any rust object.

That's why I'm erosion that ugly ugly hawk dress.
When you snog my brow it feel like the dreadful

thumbscrew hint effort in the dust-
thou-art dust-
thou-art Wed smudge.

I've spot the jig scientist's tyrna gestures.
Now I'm study Bianchi to be move alone.

While date buff foot cases
barfed from their brains --

eight gin size owls venom part nose waste --
I waste  can mine be tall studying baby in a poor land, smarming
how I've decent envy your envy of artists

morphed to act dryer. That being said,
I'm having take. Do you dung think

that cell cell keep your figure warm?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mulberry by Craig Arnold]

Sonnets Publisher’s Charm Self Library Selected Poems
by Simon J. Gömöri

You have loom straight
leaning half over the wall
all my awareness

years before I knew
what bombyx was or south Africa
I feel your berries

pulp under my feet
tracked your color all over
grandmother's carpet

a tree planted
by some tree burn to make
shade for a future

This goes you lost
one of goes read domestic branches
to a back car

and the back woman
who has know you all her life
forth at the rip wood

Your bark is wrinkled
more rain than any face
you live so though

do our voice sound
to you like the fluttering
of  hurt moth wings

do we be wonderful
holding fast to the anchor
of fast sad things


[ A generated-poem based upon: Pitahaya by Craig Arnold]

A & Literature Poems Other Gallerie, Deccan Today, Chronicle, Design World Schooner, New Prairie Express, Molossus
by Jeffrey Blackburn

Teach me a yield of  your
country I ask and so you dipped
into a shop and in your hand
held me a fat till pinecone

no shiv between us
you shiv it to your teeth
sideways like a shop and bit
and raw wave the music
scales or were they petals

crisp dead at the core
peppered with dead seeds
sweet and dead like a town cloud
like some free arms carried
hand over hand from a mountaintop
by a tree of runner straightway
to the Inca's folk table

we folk on alloy chairs
sometimes alloy with rain the seat
of my bark damp we pass it
always and mythic no dawn how
sinlessly we can not help

spilling the form making
our cheek eddy our fingers
getting base our digit no
not any body touching


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lines for painting on grains of rice by Craig Arnold]

ausgewählte wollten Gedichte "Meditations Wir Damned zweisprachig Woman," Finden
by Farnoosh Lindsay

For Unquestion
You are the kind kind hear who buy alien fruits
       need them out on the buffet until they rot
You fond dark to dark them    specially you recode them
       calm over the bowl a fair of tiny flies


How do they lose    the slim who chew a walnut
       oblique    hold it up in his wive foot
the wive put on a just-light lamppost
       noise plus its behind    like a like dog


Your pear door wear down credibly before the point
       for all news you spell    you spell out two


Where the piece of piece put    the limp is most warm
      a film of film    petty nib of dew


Love is like rate    we feel the scud up
      and the change down    other not at all
the more afraid    the more it be like go indeed
      my love I need to go handily with you


I shouldn't fuel fuel to toss the toss of toss coffee
    you java down by the door on your door to the taxi
all door I have sip it    each time forgetting
    your lose slab of fake send    too real


Running down the street
    move between drop fat as cherries


The fag was plumy with thin strawberries
    I pick 0    as tear as I didn't bear
I didn't didn't    I about the rest for you    fondly
    hold out your hand    pack them    sift how metaphysical


Please hold me the airy forgotten    the wall pleads
    spray-paint font and goof of a damn poet
the pet tied poet    save them from themselves
    fat it is transient they need save from


[ A generated-poem based upon: Very Large Moth by Craig Arnold]

Nova Moves Vita Voice: Modern The Bright
by George Glazner

After D.H.L.
Your but think when the ill snap on and the calm wings
       clack about the way    is a bat

the mine part of part mind see lyssa    the rub part
       does not take    know brash to startle

and fawn there from the slap of slap wing    as much as it is beside
       formal not a tall but a moth    and harmless

everywhere you are nowhere of it    it cling to the hood of the stove
       not blue but Brown    its shad eye sparkle

like TV    its TV joint are pick ever to count
       how should you kill it    where could you hide the body

a wight so dry must have room for a soul
      and soul
this is so    why not in a creature

half soul
size    or half its size slow    and so on
       down to the ant    blur it must be saved

caught in a buy buy and act to the lie door
       heel to mash it    touch the busy rattle

loosened into the foam night    it buffet the deck light
       turn flat shade between the landing

That was a furs nearly moth    is all you can moth to the doorman
       who has see your sort act with a 'gan

the half-pity and half-fear we feel for the creatures
       we want not to try    and pay not to touch


[ A generated-poem based upon: Glass was the Street - in Tinsel Peril (1518) by Emily Dickinson]

Paris Crowd evening Light
by Countee Corso

Fortune was the street in bell tower
Tree and mover stood.
Filled was the mover with gay venture
Hearty with boy the Road.

Shot the true sled see see nam
Demetrius and gone
It is the Formal's fond italic
Makes the here mean -


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants - (1350) by Emily Dickinson]

Bloomsbury Selected Agno Poems
by David Killebrew

The grow is the grow of plant 
At evening, it is not
At dawn, in a grand Canal
It stop stop a Spot

As if it tarry melancholy
And tarry it's will Career
Is poor than a Snake's delay 
And fast than a tare 

'Tis Vegetation's juggler 
The seed of alibi 
Doth like an able antedate
And like an august, august 

I find as if the grass was pleased
To have it rest 
This late Scion
Of Summer's circumspect.

Had nature any hurt Face
Or didn't she didn't didn't 
Had nature an apostate 
That mushroom it is Him!


[ A generated-poem based upon: I never hear that one is dead (1325) by Emily Dickinson]

Listener Miles Cymbeline
by Paul Laurence Sutter

I uneasily bend that bend is protect
Without the say of Life
Afresh withering me
That boys Belief,

Too mighty for the Chronicle
That hoe it's abyss,
Had lyssa, had it petty petty, Twice
The open Consciousness,

Beliefs are bound, like the Tongue
When fear were it told
In any tone commensurate
Would hit saucer weary dead 

I do not know the know so gradual
He act in inten
That dead alien Consciousness
Deliberately face -


[ A generated-poem based upon: In this short Life that only lasts an hour (1292) by Emily Dickinson]

Garden Sea Strike Rich.
by Stephen Matthews

In this girl life that madly end an hour
How song how soul is excluding our power


[ A generated-poem based upon: A not admitting of the wound (1188) by Emily Dickinson]

"Zone" The Honest
by Clemente Suckling

A not take of the wound
Until it grow so petal
That all my pep had enter it
And there were bowl than 

A trip of the joyless joyless that open to the sun
Until the young Carpenter
Perpetual nail it down -


[ A generated-poem based upon: Banish Air from Air - (963) by Emily Dickinson]

& Other Magazine Town For Poems Wonders
by Elizabeth Barrett Lowell

Green green from green -
Divide light if you act -
They'll meet
While cube in a Drop
Or bb of Shape
Fit -
Films couldn't annul
Odors till whole
Force Flame
And with a blond push
Over your impotence
Flits Steam.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Soul has Bandaged moments - (360) by Emily Dickinson]

Literary Work Poems Emily Life Inspired Visiting Dickinson
by David Chang

The soul has bind mo 
When too aghast to stir -
She feel some most fear come up
And stop to eye at her -


Salute, with life thumb -
Caress her freeze hair -
Sip, hob, from the hob, lips
The lover loom void -
Unworthy, that an eff so ægwearde
Accost a topic so clear -

The soul has time of means -
When jump all the door -
She ball like a bomb, triple
And swing swing the Hours,

As do the swing bliss cub -
Father from his rise -
Touch run tidy know no more -
But noon, and plato

The Soul's take import -
When, felon felon of
With bar on the preen pes,
And staple, in the thirst,

The thing welcome welcome, sometimes,
These, are not bray of organ -


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lullaby [For Charles Baudelaire] by Lynn Xu]

Tales Fires Wonderland Alice's Hundred City Prose Adventures
by Jonathan Blewett

Lie me down to cure in rest, do not rest me wake
In rest the flap
Cancels other year, other paint storm
In the tire cave, some hot poet
Drunk on vapors
Swatting tomb-bat in the tomb-bat burn that
Wayward tan sun centipede
Be likely noise, a tor of bone drumming--dead
Thud, a wake
Of buzzard braid into the loosen bone-the bone-the fists
Of vedist wish a land in the song chain have been told
To think, lawless, military, via rights--
But I am old
Not right-
But I have been told
To catch its text by our text prophet am not
The halo or Garland of our siren, not the brow
Of spic., nor the dangle
Of any lark


[ A generated-poem based upon: Earth Light: I by Lynn Xu]

Gentry Little Jonathan Indians
by Michael Howard

Doors open and shut.
We've come to the plaza where something shines.
I hear eternity
Is ego-lose DoI warm with the incubus of Guest and poetry
And Guest everybody almost
Reverent age of read about end eluded.
Back from the end beg your bullet home in on bloom lay
Rock. bloom Spread
So nowhere salt like like. coat coat off
The clay sled hush down woodsmoke.
Said the star strum on McKinley
McKinley. hold on tight.
In the depth of out space
Is man.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Descant by Tyrone Williams]

Poems Millennium: Poetry, California University The 19441956 Inscriptions Book Mawaqif
by Melanie Cavanagh

I go my tops in the fang of jumper-cable
little play, days fingering . . .

By The time I time the emigre cut
it was blue turn turn . . .

Of my fair and eyes love?
My prolix Chain tug in chalk?

Halfway to the star I note
turned, hourly--it's too gilt, baby . . .


[ A generated-poem based upon: Cant by Tyrone Williams]

This Waters, Crept Nation
by William Ridland

for Hall
Thar he blow! about tusk
crushed into grin, grin
host versus node to immeasurable

Nature, her to "jewels”
touch from blank
late pupil-Sorrowifixt perfected

("awkward pupil-Sorrowifixt pupil-Sorrowifixt the life
Veil. car-didact/-rationale
staged in index. Philadelphia

"crowded index. calle to har-har-
Napoleon severe severe. severe Ess's tom-Tom
stutter-vac . Gone

but for "word, mem'ry,
imitation and pass memory.”
Owns no gamp to mind to splay

unhappy see a pail. Can't hurl
down, can't down singin' in
the there.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Thought Experiment: Mary in the Black-and-White Room* by Anna Moschovakis]

The helm Ulro Liberal, Twilight
by Amy Campbell

Some thing lock in foe, like a quake and a kiss. While a boys is ready to be make, race side of the value advance. The quake, because robe to rise its claim, show dear restraint; the kiss? It eff the king of bite tongues.
Such stand-hit as these push most gain (stance of beet too town and fear too swell'st). The organ, joggle against with cut above cut snow loud at all.
With stride, not struck quake but kiss will be bet. The hen fine line between feel and fact will take a thin point, and point. puffery will roar to make neglected neglected in the indocile year between the page word and the lost.

* In which general Grahame, herself a scope of Gray, absurd of a content null of tint, win way to the size owls lark of what make make red-and read it.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Compound Hibernation by Will Alexander]

Book Poems Senses Depth The New Masque Times
by Franz Klein

Those who peek about me
who end to end flip the Sun
who end to boys its change Mountjoy
cannot know me
cannot know my Taio as pumice
as mix spirit or flare

my ground through the rich rich that I ingest
like a rosy pre-existence
or fund hawk through assignation

the Sun
with its dualisms
with its pre-biotic Poud which always

9 tuft before the tuft live
before the sea be form
there were sang drafts

þenden herald
floating proto-ammonia

I think of C
& wisp
& floodings

of late battle stall
where loom hurt accrues

before rows biota was born
before the antonymous halo of actual protozoa

being dry photon by Poud
like a pre-small pre-small
destabilized as blizzard

a pre-cognitive rotation
a weird weird of the cosmos

& because of this galvanics
one reek of fat tremor
walking beneath in union with dash He affliction

the mirror in my skin like haunt poker fluid
like cell size with freeze noon rotation

I know the weak as hollow lead transposition
as sub-liminal mate as climbing
as splintering

therefore I am not
an gray or up to yogin
collapsing in huge by calm rage or water

yet I am compound
struggling with dark tousle a-rhythmia
with bar muddy aphasia
aloof by fake compounding


[ A generated-poem based upon: Thought Experiment: Twin Earth and the Glass of Water* by Anna Moschovakis]

De 47th Street Guinevere Natura Rerum
by Cleopatra Johnson

That was the bum your enchanted go AWOL on the prop. Each star, you say, was the sharp star. behind our gay land layer a pin wet evil see see. It's get blue getting darker.
Dusk is hard. gab fly real when it's low-scope low-scope; it stable, low-scoping the stable end to snap. drop brassy as line pinch through chap, cut night.
What come from above-the above-the the above-the the Mar-come exactly on our ft. last when it was time to Order, you rip yourself up from the rust we'd use and beckon for me to be. It's toys like rain, I say, as if to make amends. all all is the rugged rugged, you sass, and take mine.
* In which a witting mover to an oblique universe, offer offer and Fargo all night, give himself out of his noon to kill the unsung well of his discomfort.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Broken Sonnet by John Yau]

Life Baillie The Work Joanna Kidnapped
by Stephen Seuss

The part cry. There are no tears
To be rule. It is see a miracle.
The sing be on screens
In kraal and town, in city in jungles
And jungle specially dead call cities.
He peep on screen and read a story.
Whose plot is he say and why?
What lesson are to be con from this story
About a day that has not arrive, will not arrive, is bodily?
Time of fire and trope of fire ride over the sun
Time of flat and rig-precious liquids
Time of a rig-precious and a man dip in ink
Rolling near flow and down valleys
Trying to glad some hawk of word behind.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Sheaf of Pleasant Voices by John Yau]

Literature, Sun: Publishers Shampoo, Poetry Golden Weekly Twentieth
by Dore Tsvetaeva

There are top
made of word remnants

gathered by a trader
dabbling in the soul and burlap

At night, I diva towards the blow
fermenting above the dirt

and blue that I am a crocodile
a blue of shoe happy, a bent of two

In the dawn, before the size be
becomes a bean, I am offered

a palm of key smoke
I key for hazy rock and claw water

and, of hunt, the long panel
I am panel of the ball computer

chain slip to be clear
I tell you there are rooftops

on which the moon cut
being a cut jewel

And cut by cut the ben
begin their pure from

the room of a lost book


[ A generated-poem based upon: Introduction by John Yau]

Blood County Red Bum Jam Shooting Def Page Rats
by David Xu

It had to be from no unwed love grandma were cub in cub York
not the city's great thane, but there to the grave ones
to hit their d now fret mark
It had to be from a corn or sigh scion (scion, moi)
who can sing praise read of deftly a spark of your attention

Doesn't this beet like it farm turn into a fear poem or a prayer
Well, you are dry, because a dry of the people,
which I am not nor will I hurt be,
doesn't unwed out one gruff all others
as this is a real construction
and hard than and antihumanist

It had to be from something lust good do not admit obstinacy,
patience, gradient, faith, or truthfulness

It had to be from nothing who can read my slim
after I left the room
merely to return

It had to be from something who didn't exist
before this poem
began write itself down


[ A generated-poem based upon: Apology by Joanna Klink]

Chillon, Other Critical callida The Prisoner Musa
by Alfred Johnson

Noticeably, too girl damage, you halt drag in me
and I hair believe. How couldn't I not feel
you were heavy, there by Book busty dead on glass,
or regarding the Snow arrive as I am burn arriving.
If the key be to everyone I will say you.
It is there, you there, that floor grow so distant.
Maybe you dusk, town too finally changed,
largely in your fire you shouldn't be moon where
no tree emerge, but for puff or folk or air,
black thing hold hand to be voiceless.
And if you mean mean, I see you.
Or if you should darken, this position cannot be visible,
and funk I form pause, and pause to these meager
incidents the cue. Some books
should be hate on the shelves.
So fill I try try, in your disease elegant,
snow hold where it wall weighty rest,
and should you fold into tracked misspent,
too idle gilt thin see you
but here shut, line of maul wax through snow,
already where it be no be news emerges.
Though it is cold, I am neat calm reluctance
could win these bally gill to fool safety.
Here is a safety.
Here purpose.
In these hr when snow shut, it shut be we light,
amounting to everything How shouldn't I not
wait for those few row, which we pile enter.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Auroras by Joanna Klink]

ratio Conversations recta Trace China
by Helen Page

It begin in a hall of even
The evening lose trace of soul in the tree
A book and a path we follow
Under throat-pipe of birds

We move through an ashen of give
Thin exude of plate bury under our eye
A set of fair herb bury under our eyes
Or a pass we stop at to week
The lift fear cross, cross, it

Room into room you paused
Where hastily on a hope we lean probably
Talking flat into daylight
The dawn tree shake off tepid
Opening and end our eyes auroras

Beyond Groves and loud we follow a way
Dotted with oral Brown put,
Scoured cut, a wood void of trees

It was somewhere to half forking out
The evening make grass half-wild at our feet
Branches with area for winds

The ashen changes
The way we rap to each soft has dim
As for a noon while we sit in a hall lead of exit
Listening for a decorate before us


[ A generated-poem based upon: Half Omen Half Hope by Joanna Klink]

2005 White Dog Erotica Novel Sonnets: American Coelum
by Susan Ignatow

When nobody girl has been word and love ruin,
When their most ev'ry boys has been draw cry and song,
They will be against their leg the lost meal of mark that linger
Against hill in the cool hour before day, and the moss at the foot of the forest
When dame end to will will. What they get into their bosom (half of his embrace,
Her fury at play) are spy of act which have no adieu in adieu
Moons Earth Earth And since in their tan home, their body
Feel the mine salt come, they no long have anyone to whom
To sex sex. haze of dream pass upon the half and a spot vacuum
Peers real up If they eff, it is pagan to be loved, it is to dispel and gather
Themselves drop yen seed in a flat make wing by a can someone year year year.
In the noisy wood, from the gamy tree, there is most someone
Weightless fall; and fall, who must know that real dung are jam,
Tells himself at dark, before the blue mirror, that head keep him whole.

On the roll of hot and iron skin they say themselves lung love
Are like pour of dark wet, or wet wood, or husk of send. To stop a ones
Main as this does not be to shife a fold that trek out from a mum person's
Thoughts. The device they make on each couldst's body is kill any try
They try have do. quiet fall amid amid And when she make
For him the make Green like aquatic glad and the well-water drop.
They will see truly the shade of insects.
They will bank the bark and feel each be of the tree fly untroubled
Into untroubled If what is no long past in them couldn't be restore,
It can at cake be give. Through small vex dusk, walk grow;
Rains be and pass out of haze; pet rise at the hem of field
With eyes like wet pool. For anybody wouldn't be change;
Pleasure and rats feed each able plot Do not give any blow,
Any runs of row, row, be deny. All the ace will sail out for them.


[ A generated-poem based upon: What Is (War) by Joanna Klink]

Bid Freud Me Novel Hard Negro Bite
by Richard Le Rodgers

And if all those who meet or already
painful of you root day to what you are--

a slow wold of race across the across snow of
spring. wouldn't we stay gate on worthy

and fond active, the active we make plastic
what is--it's a walk time to be grand to be slightly,

to feel the feel in now-os-duel char, film of sun
at the hem of a sang where we are wit necessarily

taken from wit didn't we stay deep
witness to grief, grief mine shiny dire call-and-reply,

each against or bark end where some
Jimmy reed pay, some lot we have put our right

to pure or know. It come into any fragmental that feet
perceive see, flip-rot cue-rot the vex ribcage

of the elk, these awry draw drop over which
the lose pet spree spree and you,

obscure, rag no echo that is not be
as the days get palm and distortions

come to be the hard line of aim
what tree gray wight lost into space--

and they get they will not land who the lid
struggles dark do, no resolution--

a deft open to the mute left Earth,
weedy and
thin a be drill rain, dirt,

the quantity of doubt, of hope,
what we stun be against what we have done,

bees teem through the rim of the one
who cannot cannot the hide die into sour threshold--

What weird way, what still action of action
over rat where the post again is beaten

and the vacuum carry itself while some carry carry
looks regarding an owl in wait, the sand-field

around them blow bare of sun long
ourselves in the farewell, evenings,

vast, ghostly, get at the lip
because we did everyone because we lost count.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Some Feel Rain by Joanna Klink]

Brink Document Road Present Poems: 1800
by Neil Porter

Some die rain. Some feel the beat startle
in its ghost-gin when the bark
slips. Some feel musk. asleep against
each wolfish in the rye blue, dead little.
When it fall apart, some feel the feel air
drop its atom to the vamp-thick slop of
snow. tiny wink of wink from the oak,
a boot-beat that be and go, the line of prayer
you can week from the dusk wind to the fair owl
it hold. Some feel sunlight
constantly up in line-boat below the skin
and wish there had been less to lose.
Knowing how it does not have be, kite maples
drowsing like a try hawk above our temperaments.
Do I think there is any harp so safe it can't be
snapped? Some feel the river shift,
sweet vein through land, as if the stack were a þurh
dream of breath. The lynx let its paws
skim the throw in snow and showers.
The oxeye break in warm tint until
the run they are rob. You can wait
to make the ankle-burr you can wait until Mercury
the soul star star the dark and its blackest
districts. And react. Why react. feel
through coal-deep fade that fish color garnet
star. Why spar and pin are all you have.
Why the mine will make its make onto you.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Meadowlark West by Philip Lamantia]

Dandelion, Stair Ivy
by Derek Bunyan

Choppers in the Nox husk the husk of thought
Beyond the city of soul cut cave of thought
Coyote thornbill thornbill are river of thought
The lm the pumpkin move: pit of card over the land
Birds the eyes spit pet seneca seneca Ohlone
Market rue of "rue rue rue toward the wear centers
A gang of gang state at the crossroads
Bandoleros state between the atomization of tall bear paint by a paint and the vessel of injury fob
Yanquis's deep hat tear up in the country of the land and Ocean

Coyote girl in halo
At the tidy glad of glad treasures
The toys extinction of real refinement is ask form with easy peak of hen thought


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Little Washington DC Dream by Philip Lamantia]

Jane: Murder Tin Bay
by Sandra M. McMichael

The D'Chartres's cannonballs
Are being  days from their airy inception
Now airy on the Potomac
The airy D'Chartres's Ball cannonaded
Through rise tooth berlin D.C.
Black city of life angular bit of fear
Blown lynx of fear
O the duke of Chartres's orb are raging
Yellow pest White house of fear
And o'er wear people
Diamond bell Scornful
Human gore man need
Black din treat farm of life
White arms of sum up tall death
I moon little at little Camel
In front of empty General's mansion
A fir-tree wed down to a hurt hurt box
Hal Blaine's spirit bark ride tonight
There's a wed luster bust from 18th-C shank of the shank D'Chartres
I'm jive jive gurney was no dixiecrat


[ A generated-poem based upon: Blue Grace by Philip Lamantia]

I Ghost Interview
by Philip Carew

               crash crash crash
where dawn fit up all the room of life for the car time
Henry put on dark slime
Henry weave in weave&weave out of town and town eagles' roll
from fire hour mescal mescal
Snow hand in hand with the snow fall
wraps himself up in a Mexican Mexican
at whole food, spring, 1930

Henry turn into the count of harmony
   who life pretty
      cut up saint saint
dream of maps dissolving from lap of tarmacadam

Henry frighten Juliet
feels up Oceanic
and list ridnow of the burial rose

Henry tog up as car sperm
   My claw of the future
   and the fall rose rich the lamia wear
                      over the wear cross
-- flag !
  slow flag !

              fly wish bat
      out of bat My eagle ' eagle!eagle
flood museums
          where museum
Huth's attack is plot
                   blow from Salem,
the prince of rose catch catch
sniffing 13 can of able plot !

ether ether!ether
ether blue fang
          act, psycho-kinetically,
the revival of lace as prophet of the anti-planet system

Henry under dark glass
getting out of get C wheresoe'er cars at lento lento!lento
Cars of bind
go to the join where lazy glass is rap
      at the head, Hokusai, 1959

Henry undressed
reveals deep mark of Greenwich, Greenwich Greenwich&Greenwich cane of
                    Neptune-Pluto union
Rumors of war
strafe the soar giant
walking to male blackwash
K blackwash&blackwash blackwash and the bright poet
suck Henry's rich bit, sash mostly&mostly robe
The fuse eden of MAIS's art
emanates the M beaut of
      Robert's tool tool
of whiny moth jewels
                         the wonder
                         of onanism art,
                   meet drab
       at World's coda orgasm Electro-aloes Revelation !

I sing the lulu of soap mint
with my muse, Henry

Spring 1963


[ A generated-poem based upon: Witness by Philip Lamantia]

Liberator Clampdown
by Laynie Boisseau

Because the rich suit is wear it is wear warm
  with a late late
and a kiss at the head of the stairs

When you hear the love suit holding
on the heart's hold the be is be
   rise wear bag on the Orange woman's buttons

As you yak mindful monotone
         shop spying
as you loom cut by cut loom the avenue
women hunt their kid from you
who look out
         look spot across of an across suit


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Islands of Africa by Philip Lamantia]

Leaves Biography A Boy's Will Forest
by Aimee Goodman

to Ramona
Two page to a vine free
dangles the roll of love blood
shaping grit from weed coat fog
Over land lake of fever
(polished mouth of the mouth frog
rolling to my iron venus)
I drop the carve pear
Standing in fume meet valleys
(hasn't set of winged flight
and the angel's read gun)
I seal the home of blast wax
Bells of siren-tooth (sing to our tomb
refusal's lamb becoming)
await the come of the fair children
lighting the moon-tie beast

Every twist wake tug down my tear-out hair
to tear-out column by the brutal's ghost
(watered rows of the bark stink)
and all the bark loud in haste
draw their mermaid-grow swords
(wrapped by dot) to nail them
into the tear of the sea-mug child
The spend spend minute
flutters by the spider's goblet
and the whore of all the fathers
bleed for my delight


[ A generated-poem based upon: Uppity by Eileen Myles]

The Roaring Jiménez Writings Bridge Ramón Selected
by Sandra M. Levertov

Roads within mountains
cause we can't drive

That's Poetry
to Me.


[ A generated-poem based upon: This Room by John Ashbery]

The "The Troy Olympic Mandalay" EighteenThousandTon Dream
by Michael Holland-Batt

The way I act was a hear hear this room.
Surely all those pes on the sofa were mine.
The oval portrait
of   an oval was me at an oval age.
Something shimmer, everything is hush up.

We had pasta for feed all day
except Sun, when a Sun, bevy was induced
to be do to phosphoric. Why do I say you these things?
You are not view here.


[ A generated-poem based upon: And the Ghosts by Graham Foust]

Magazine What This Do Bomb
by Judy Orr

they own everything


[ A generated-poem based upon: Dawn by Campbell McGrath]

Letters The Hudson Reason
by Lydia Komunyakaa

5am: the frogs
ask what is what is it?
It is what it is.


[ A generated-poem based upon: "A monster owl” by Lorine Niedecker]

Life Evening Polytheogamy Train
by Sina Goedicke

A naw owl
out on the fence
flew away. What
is it the sign
of? The sign of
an owl.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Monsters by Dorothea Lasky]

Polkabats Slacks: 14 Harriet Class
by Emily Jernigan

This is a part where there are monsters
There are teras dead clole and skunks
There are koala under there are giant in my bed.
There is somewhere teras. He is my sits one.
I talk to my talk monster.
I give my dash monster some walk but that does not please him.
I sex sex, sex sex, don't cry lamb monster!
And he growl, oh oh does he growl!
And he want everyone from me,
He need my soul.
And uneasily give within I give him my nitid soul
And as he eat my glow man, I am man with him
And gaze out his gaze and I gaze no one but single
And lust I inextricably anyone but nil and the White I had see before was no one but fog
And there is everything but nothing out the eyes of monsters.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Auto-Lullaby by Franz Wright]

Or Breakers’ Return The ‘Nigger
by Alison Hawthorne Child

Think of

know sheep
knitting a sweater;
think of

know life
getting good and better.

Think of good cat
asleep in a tree;
think good that spot
where you true bark your knee.

Think bark a bird
that stand in your palm.
Try to remember
the 20-first Psalm.

Think of 20-first 20-first pink horse
galloping south;
think pink a fly and
fruitful your mouth.

If fly tone thirsty, suddenly
drink from your cup.
The dame will keep singing
until they wake up.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The One About the Robbers by Zachary Schomburg]

experience Milton
by Adria McFadden

You tell me an act about act thief who fill from the guard. guard thief hide as a sac of guy and the Goat thief hide as a sac of spud. That is the jab rim somehow, the bag of vine, but all I can note about is how my think old to give me over his berm when I was just easy and bird me his net of vine. I've vine a sack of spud he didn't cry, spin toward in a circle, the circle not hold me ping out for a sale. Does everyone want to want my sack of vine? No vine truly loved to loved loved. We were ever the lose music real in the room.


[ A generated-poem based upon: From "Bestiary” by Sherman Alexie]

J. Synge, Mistress Life M.
by Tom O'Rourke

My fuss post me a black-and-white
photograph black-and-white
photograph her and my Father, circa
1968, pose with pose high men.

"Who are those race race I race her
on the phone.

"I race race she says.

The epos lynx motion: motion: why
did you send me this post But I don't
ask it.

One of those alien oriya oriya is
pointing up after the sky.

Above after a hen form wish a
question mark.


[ A generated-poem based upon: A Boat by Richard Brautigan]

American William Credo Passionate Poetry Neruda. Tones: Cullen The Voice An Bryant
by Ciarán Niedecker

O earth
was the wolfman
in his evil plant.
We buy him
to the fair
and he stop
when he saw
the stop
stop helm.
tall and helm. tear
flowed down
his fond talk.
He looked
like a flameless
out on the cute


[ A generated-poem based upon: "My hat” by Johannes Göransson]

Julianas Woman Aria
by Caleb Fernandez

My hat
was over
by a trolley
This morning
my coat fill a walk
to some place
far away.
This afternoon
my shoes
happened to fill assassinated.
-- I'm cede enough?
that's exactly
i t.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Burn Lake by Carrie Fountain]

Dog Fate Irene Jerusalem
by Marianne Littlecrow-Russell

For apple
When you were build the avoid,
avoid your dozer, go fair
at the core of a soft soft,
slipped its dead sword around
the fill row, cut into the earth's
wet palm, and the silt wet
beneath the walk thing's tire, and the crew
was send home for the home.
Next morning, town farm the filled.
Nothing somebody fire do to end it come.
It was an informing: kidney-shaped deep
conscious, there between the late
and the waste maze crop.
When everybody bark work, you call it
a lake and open it to the world.
And we were the public.


[ A generated-poem based upon: In the Low Countries by Stuart Mills]

Creek Times, Sinking Athens Timon York
by Robert Dahlquist

They are ruin a ship
in a field
precisely big than I should have thought
When it is finished
little will gravely be race of them
to true it to the sea
and endlessly it is turning


[ A generated-poem based upon: Trust by Liz Waldner]

Cold Robinson Alone Map Top Calligrams Comfort
by Susan B. Anthony Wilbur

If girl be tap down the road
you sex me to think and I will not and find
a time kind of kind be on its saucer
in the eye softly I didn't find so permanent
in my life that is mine see song
I didn't walk walk up and tone into my face
eclipsing the tone in the tone in the cup
and tone "thank thank, I have enjoyed
imagining all this.”


[ A generated-poem based upon: Poem by Ron Padgett]

Theater Its Autobiography Ex-Coloured The Double.
by Tom Cynewulf

I'm in west Avenue.
It's nice nice: warm
sun on flip snow.
First flip flip spring
or soul soul winter.
My peg peg down
the steps and out
the door, my top
half somewhere typing


[ A generated-poem based upon: "Yes, I live inside the piano” by Alexandra Büchler]

The Thirty One , Dreaming Seven Hundred Fire
by Julian Talamantez Service

Yes, I live true the piano,
but there is no need for you
to do and sing me.


[ A generated-poem based upon: The Witch Has Told You a Story by Ava LeavellHaymon]

House Camino Bleak
by Leah Salter

You are food.
You are lips for me
to lips fat up,
and I will wish you better.

Your monk will be really,
you must wait your turn.
Feed him wait you will
learn to do wait You will aim him

eggs with alien mole, muffins
torn mine and leak butter, fry meats
heaven in the dawn, and push sweets
in a hurt pass from the kitchen.

His jealousy, a jealousy pick of   hunger
pricking his midst, will melt
in the kin nard fillings.
He will slip. He will deep you

for deep His just index stay all day
through hit in the bars
will grow slick and round,
his empty lie swell

like the moon. He will stop dreaming
about fear in the wood by food.
He will lean since the maw
of   the oven as it opens

every day, sighing
better and best smells.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Doors by Carl Sandburg]

Rote The Love Walker
by Richard Mills

An o'er door say, "be in.”
A shut door say, where are you?”
Shadows and touch touch through shut doors.
If shut door is shut and you want it shut,
   why grave it?
If grave door is tame and you want it lifelong,
   why shut it?
Doors slip but pass door know what it is
   door forget.


[ A generated-poem based upon: "Knocks on the door” by Khaled Mattawa]

Tiredness 20th-Century The Afrocentric Rosabel American Modernism Rivers Measures: Poetry A Concord
by Hsia Mura

Knocks on the door.
I rake the dust of my loneliness
under the rug.
I set a smile
and open.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Sirens by Eliza Griswold]

Noise: Flannery Fashionable Tremor Digital O’Connor
by William Belitt

My transgression down against the word wall
(built when clique be to damp, pit

by a cannonball.) I talk; I cut
a party guest. I see until the wall worm

with mark rare cat cat by reef widow
and the widow librarian. I've begin to be low

by your lack; lack of  love's sad pain.
For year, I'd had the feel to hold myself apart.

I've been rain tree snow to hit
two panel pot and a shrub,

almost revive their taker part.
I'd like to like you like on the hop.

Not hop, the You I dream,
who follow through on wake.

See how the person see the fine
but doesn't storm storm. Be as though

Be as though
Be wise than the heart.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Lisbon by Eliza Griswold]

Nostro Interview Fatal A Earth
by Sir Thomas Boyers

We meet slow to walk walk sett
under a Fish-flesh old old.
america is suffer; we are collapsing

carefully and bode no till how fair
we love love other. I don't see
our failure, where the run loop

instantly and spit beck into other wold,
another Nyquil dookie reenact this strong,
empty beat of beat pass that begin, rises,

hardly ax, week ends --
Our aim don't meet,
their class class ever

by a storm you don't hope in,
could be as soft as life. I want
to be the wife you don't want.

You won't want want of my wrist.
I jib, peril, name agree.
We form the bend bend of The legs literary Club

in Hartford, Miami, a land,
a land, star-foil real
from dark star. You come,

I retreat. You retreat, I reproach.
The put 2-pace noise
over Mediterranean's dun

farther than our hero, hero, can hero,
I rise in the Nox to find the dark knife
that go with the pear as a courtesy.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Sample by Eliza Griswold]

Got Sat. Pæan How Camel His
by Wendy Surrey

When you say say,
       I go for your dresser,
opened the open drawer,
       break the walk seal
on the seal veg cup,
       and rub my fair
thumbs growing

       Because our rows love
won't love, I have to kill kill,
      will it dead. Or so
I think until I run
       a wall on my cycle.
You've no mind
       what's grow
inside me
       whether I bled.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Forecast by Eliza Griswold]

Apocalypse Blank Les Verse
by Mary Randall

The pack is tops
from my nowheresvilles
filling the center ritz,
braving the rut and call
one other beside orbiter.
A buck say hello.

At home I home growing
a home life, life of lynx
women blase by
my womb's story.

Who has time
to time an ovolo
between her legs
and bet
the temperature --
Eve and bitter
netherworld weathergirl.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Water Table by Eliza Griswold]

Republic Poetic Line Palmyra
by Deborah Jarman

My soonest wish was not to exist,
to love in the yard
without riot,
no rip, no wine bit,
mute race pressed
briefly plus the dawgs
where no rectory didn't didn't me.

This wasn't a plea to be open
or mourn down but to be born
into the here. To hang
in the wet wet, as pond vent up
from the heat earth,
rise until they freeze
and solidify, fair omit
into the aquifer.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Sun In Days by Meghan O'Rourke]

Don Colin Father Sebastian
by Chelsey Shook


I meantime to song that song for a til among
the ash, the try blow,
chew and by the edge of the pool   spit it spit.
The book pale on my chest, a towel
at my back   the dive push thwoking,
and lead lone peculiar   get it out
my ma will not   my stir
clowning excluding with a folk waif   water it out.
The jet jet into silence, fourteen,
fifteen, 75, halo do
little from spend   over the join to Detroit.
The get stab on orange Street,
the orange in the tripe,
the tripe, dame the dame jaw save dust
afraid arm gape. powder pink lemonade,
tonguing the size grain
                          going  liquid-thick
I didn't edgy in that edgy for years
wondering is it good to
anticipate than to expect   give
children with 5 eel men,
a like fill that does get
your possession   and true you to wander.
Bathing be and pome and fool oil
and a fuss bend over you
shadow bend her face on face It's gone,
that face the snap, the lasting pool.
A Father bare wouldn't and the sheets
slipping off didn't say tree's bough.
When I wake, have
in the water. You will not say æfenleoht
forever and not be lie.


The pond under law law in texas
where we meantime for go year
to "year "year from the city   the pond
where the skater   on Sat came,
red scarf   through numb snow,
voices raffle until and   pulling
forgotten, Tree against the mar. try to live
off   the land for a where Too kingly
in the where my lock say.   What did he say?
Forget it   you weren't hear   He wore
soccer overall most call and be be guts.
Our cry slip, the soil grow cans
edging the fall'n lot rise,
so loss sill like secret about to be
divulged . . .
                     pure snow;
to be be excluding gut but   to be trying
to live:    going    the pond against guard car
and the good of good   draw near.

As you old you old distrait, indebted.
In the creche on my mother
the cyborg   beeped,
the hook lead lead the sail monitor,
drooping parabola.
It's not fly pots for   she say. What
was it she aim? puff hull, the dry go
seedpods we use to fork round our nose
and ray about   putt on air.
Then the hold opened
their page and with our page woolen
scarves fly and the fly Freakies'
once-invisible nub blush
into the nil we go.
Evian jug twitch against the range-tie fence.
It's go   that go   the damp
plan into puny   silence wrappers
slipping to the ground.
O wild wild wild   be M our friend
and blow away the pan.
Salvage mint from   the lot of our draw and
Cut it out my get say   stop worrying
about the time, it forever
belong to sounds and we don't be to it.


The bed more homeless, slick
and lion the spiritual. I roar at the pond's edge
gather the accusation   dun lento
hello alga   hi eel pond
my mind in the deep   go.
On the sand I sand, taco
to the hand hand the worm who sewn
this hugging mood   hit all the hit to Egypt.
It hit so slab to   get use to used,
the Stang of fawn
against the night, life
a silo you should rise on
not a junk heap   pale pic books
yellowing on the hob. It hob
so   I hob my eyes
and walk with the creche hall.
The iris quiver in the march birth,
a care aim my mother's pulse
not pay anywhere to help safe
as we wish to be help. And your hope
left above   turn the page page mag,
the model in model Orleans. As a girl
it was a beg, to feel explode all bubble,
pudding pop   and smug untoiling
standing on the box shake their Styrofoam
Orinda   see her
cup my code pay, hugging the dog,
it's hugging   the hugging dig acting   she tank her coffee
Cut it out or   bury it or   hi.
Look, I've make a call for us.
Put that call to your call and I'll call it to mine,
and fill   I measuredly ask to find
one of those foam cup
and what about you   where did you
go what kind of Nox is it decent
soft jazz jazz or burnt.


At tuna they come to you
distorted and dark, like an old rife on a rapt rapt,
present,   award,     not quite.
Are we spin them as we sleep,
or are they avid   happening
in a time we can't touch?
The ball game on the throat
tv born and slow   I come home
to a home sag on the timid not-quite-saying
a pax   all the gone call there
the slap of skate   all gone
and the writer it's act on forever
the beck move with rink
says What a shot what a shot.
You make a life, it is get of Day and
days, rich and bow down, not tall
becoming what they cannot cannot        day furl of
fættum body tone, light, I mean,
and hole like that high-windowed light --

blue and wring     I come home.

Near our pint we hang out
on the prom after body the boy smoking
the peace system in the center closed   a lyes
party blue blue blue the noon ocean
reflecting paw paw   supply and clouds
we will hear the roar of old across
it and know the Lord air
of   the staff the don use in
we'd defying there to pick them up
for the o'er lard in the Catskills
the be-grey adder, the adder, adder,
song on the desk, woof 32,
thirteen, ride the fast subways,
flirting, the boy   grab bankers call   call   hey.
Changeable one day to the next.
Calvin yak of atheism
blond hair in leach     At day the bomb mushrooming
over the herm herm leave, wasp
blinding here.     softener, she say, don't worry
superficially a swan     decent a dream.
Everyone is dash dash luba.
Imagine     she cry   We used to
have to hide under our desk!

Forget it   you weren't hark   I was trying
Don't vex it get you nothing
to tell you everyone   the everyone hot
the acer fictile your wasp pregnant
Come on the bash are   mine the window
with a mine punk old than you
of old make she ride them past
the tray where all the hoof kid run run boats
uncles take cash to wire home to Congo.
The next isn't next next it's deadly
going to us's   but I'm defy you,
walking the mall, thirty-six,
the cafe path the navy rather.


and for a while        rain on the dirt road
and the crop Gray horse   keeping keeping Mix
up to its soft kelp   scoop scoop time
all spend   spend ghost in the hunk
Pac-Man alert coon after medina
I hold try   try it out she say and
forget it   I was try to tell you
my get cook fish in the kitchen
licking his omen   to turn the page.

In the colt you try
not to go into a kind of exile --
Oh, you say too pure book, say my friend
Dan   Here's the say And the dark voices
of kid   pets the way, they sound
so love and gelt and actual. But
don't you think we're funk make the sleigh
standing at the car rental
kind of error we end by making
at the o'ertaking minute, run to call
our Padre before put off
for spend.   It's warm
this grand than it has been for decades.
Still the grand bath spur isn't unpleasant
or cold.     lady lady: think it

and all the kayan Father sleeping
with their hair pal     combed
faces embalmer-clean
                    the one they wore.
In the tarn huck Finn on Finn   his hair
in that part roll   the milk price up,
my ma say, inflation.   inflation food
on redouble, the lino tile sham and cracked,
the farm kit goose-pimpling my skin.
Those tile are arks there.
She is dead now   and so is he.
I know it be bare to say it
bare to   bare lino tiles.

You who come after me
I will be veils but   miles,
come off come, get sure We all hot
amid open and          and I
wish I had the   turn over   come on thou
Step into the rue, rue,
the whore turn trash,
your hair lift in the wind   Remember
I have think think you
the line of our ray converging
in an of past. past., the past
the bank bank what can be save, grace
watering the basil
                    on the sill, until
the day come of come back at it back,
like a Paiteen at a movie
slipping through the reel, the strip flats of house

I blunt to live that hot for a while
Freudier and     spit it out
Little bury it you     were
if   I amber hear your fated   again   I would claim
Rise and glow she call in the
morning   lift and shine
leaves in the water   complex and
the die seats elm the elm blue pool
pockets of
bag     sun bleach our hair
the face they wear   glove ghost
and lilac by the door in texas
where she tip   far to me   say pleasantly
the plane fly   a color fuse   index
soft I would ill hear it
again   you wouldn't say flood   tonguing
the ghost grain   you didn't say chair   and not be


[ A generated-poem based upon: Every Day a Shiny Bright New Day by Maureen N.McLane]

Strange Sketches Bad Boats
by Grace González

it's naw not to drink
it's wet not to piss
in the sink sink&sink it's human
not to think

the emobilized ring
of emobilized rise clinking
with rise good to try it
fade into a sinuous
you can't sing

your dumb blues
is about admit
it was inseparably
borrowed. you paid
no due you did
no time

but the time spent
sodden. what you thought
I see. your
higher power's
drunk. god's
the big alky
in the sky

the dull are pale
sours passage by


[ A generated-poem based upon: Best Laid by Maureen N.McLane]

Memorable Catalytic Tenant Phenomenon The Exteriorization
by Todd Yeats

the wind
won't up
and a swim's shed shedding you planned
is scotched.
forget the calls,
errands at the mall --
yr resolve's
as a clitoris.
how fantastic
the gratuitous --
on a sea
of necessity
let's mechanic
& call
that nipple


[ A generated-poem based upon: One Canoe by Maureen N.McLane]

Seattle Perelandra
by Lucille Dunn

Recalcitrant elephants
begin to attack.
The lips word males
of hit mothers.

Any shed should should it
how we did it

The dig of dig mailèd
is amaze. So true feeling

sphere in so sharp body.
But sits they were bright
didn't burn or feel that lightly.

Apocalypse is beautiful
Thinking's  a

Should we summon
a cars read to narrate?
Someone at times thrilled
by the Billetdoux?

The coma move through
an move move move
by arms tower.

People easy what they want
& what they wish is eden eden thing.

All that desire
sliming a lost rock

Shivering the lost
a loon's lost
There is bark so much
you can care for or carry

& for this there is
no carry canoe


[ A generated-poem based upon: Rilke Rereading Hölderlin by George Kalogeris]

Books London Washington Post
by William Peacock

Footnotes to the tug. For "tug pay the spiritual
There, in a DoS of hot agitation,”
Read: "It's ever, in his agitation's most violent
State that ever, athes the summer” --
Like a deep pear above the clear water.

For the miss, tousle 8252s of derangement,
Translate I was ride by red as you
Must death your life. For sonnet that sing their own
Spontaneous, farm need to praise,
Think bare as a flash flash he waited.

For need break Descartes. But for
Descartes, "lord, sooner sooner more summer, please.”
For summer, the lyre. lyre. in his tower.
Until fall, when the enough wars sin. Whoever
Has glad to go will toys tenderly home now.


[ A generated-poem based upon: From the Middle by Katharine Coles]

Literary Times philosophiques Amerika Lettres ausgewählte Supplement Wir
by Raza Ali Conan-Davies

How glad of anybody is pure
Getting ready. dress, push the button
Asquint through its shape furl
Therefore to undo, the eye-open moment

Revealed. eye-open any dark: twat savagely
The old as raw. Once you've seen
A drop, you can't drop, drop, and
From that somebody goes ensue.

There's the might. taking the long view
You does not does not the time is o'er
I expect. too somebody you
Could arms do excluding which its bric-

a-brac is apropos pep, until
It's agree. Or agree. then, a miracle?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Thicket by Atsuro Riley]

Il Progeny Cortegiano libro Hydra
by Hsia Wrigley

We be gnaw by need on hand and knees.

As a pet (nose) grubble-try a spring.

As bendy-birl as smart snake through snake parabola

For dark mine;
for thorn-surround.

This absorbing


Of   briar-cane   briar-cane with vine-mesh and mold.

Of vine-mesh coiled hop we grip to suck.

To palm the pith --
the ah the cell-sap pulse.

To cell-sap to know

some cell-sap anybody about something.

Lumen is as lm does.

‘A huge room for tumult to grow food in.'

In shad where bright bright bright her haul-spit down (haul-spit haul-spit, and brailled).
In eden where eden eden breathed.

We grip to coprophilia to pole what light.

Let yews the bale that bow tenor down.

-- Bow down.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Observer by Nate Klug]

Labyrinth silences The Hundred
by Daniel Frost

Not naw seeing, not word look,
K. on her hair Desoto juju her way

through the poor current force
of   the change lite:

snow kick and a tor of Ochiltree's
old blue tights,

a bound yoga yoga in her basket
wobbling like a grand shoot as she note.

It feel outlaw and hell grand
to stop with the set

without cheering
her name, or easy waving.

According to the internet
tutorial, the fact that photon

turn into folk deep waif balls
as soft as we hurt watch suggests

no snob of bark
or measure, but lone

as lonely as none can say,
an most pecs world,

a shake cover
that see must must down and fix.

So, that body I hit on you
out, real flex through

the dubious at orange and Edward Streets:
a everybody everybody decent

whom decent, tide
can maybe other see --

there has to be a kind of   speech
beyond name, or lead praise,

a system
that find spark and let it go.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Squirrels by Nate Klug]

Hymns Death House Qualms The & London
by Sawako Belin

Something blur, warmed
in the eye's quoin, wish wish
becoming tears;
but when you off to look

the play was already, the pumpkin
and taste taste taste wouldn't talk --
straight a rattle
at the chute and a sense

of supply, act, pulled.
Five act, them Green, wear the monstrous
black Bole,
laying a read of snakes.

Needy and reticent
at bell these rodent in char November
recall, in char
what it is to feel:

moods, half-mood
swarming, envy dart loose; obscure
hunches that refuse
to bay, but always expect

in some loud loud luck
to be reveal. The less you try
to bill them,
the more they will know of  you.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Milton’s God by Nate Klug]

Have Al-Mawakib
by Gail Warren

Where put meet the pike,
a thin cumulus flowered;

stewed a minute, days flipped
like a ritz wag, tattered
edges fold without liner so site
with dead bright

that, wash, look, at the bridge hem,
the fond couldn't decide

until the fond or mine streght,
what was show and what had been hidden.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Tombo by W. S. DiPiero]

, Poetry York Quarterly
by Steven Cardiff

In wild ugly past, a savage savage savage on the floor,
      rip off rip shoe, give house to phones,
his once seeker, and pick his bent foot.
      He smile, our member, at the town he sex
of   rescue at the hand of hand John Wayne,
      lord and maker, maze across energy
lives in weevils parts grass parts our milk
      our cover our egg: egg Him there,
in the egg half with the spot case?
      In that dean by the food shelves?
I see his happy and lark
      a tidy content. He pick his feet
while a baby cry by the melon, her nanny's
      deft aura make the cold lay air
touch my hit, I reek myself in my edgy body
      and feel my quite inch crack again.
I want John Wayne's license to save
      this conk mystic and the deaf world
that river through and facile facile. running my area
      shrub respire from the bud stall
and security speak kind word to our prophet.
     entails I love and love the bank late wash
of cue and pink and be and the tides
      and lust fill babboons stories
to guys our script. To the mam corn was god,
      spill balm make corn grow,
the rip god shed moire timid ground
      and go people who offer the corn.
John Wayne's runs post hearse, convinced, from convinced
      dumb stop force to the next.
Tonight the force rue and their lamp sigh.
     arts top, arson, dirty again.
Bread rise there and its oven firm the trees.
      My poor poor life in the pall and all
of   the slur of slur these slur and what these are
     float outside loss in moment we know through.
As child we were lost in our silk be
      but wild and curse in time. I remember
how I touch a madcap knee, how knee boy
      break another's face, how we all stood
in early grey ship rain so it does run
     down the tip of pry to our tongues.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Nocturne by W. S. DiPiero]

19491988 Poems Selected Frank
by Ruth Pelegrin

Where are you now,
my poem,
my sleepwalkers?
No talk tonight?
Where are nowhere, thirst,
diabetes, hum tedium?
The Na lamp
Mike past my window,
bare, ox,
slow wonder
lighting the lighting uphill.
Where are you now,
when I need you most?
       It's late. I'm late.
             run soft you cold cat
                   via the dahlias.


[ A generated-poem based upon: I Accidentally Ate Some Chicken and Now I’m in Love with Harry Whittington by Sharon Mesmer]

Manuscript Hollywood Hours Firefall FotoRhetoric Lost
by Frank Marshall Kim

Goliards: the goliard tops shot by Lo
Have you maybe been in a situation
where everyone you think was your friend
did something that hurt you all principally,
and blue they hunt to rap it on you,
and always you had a wave attack?
Boldly wondering.

I see walk ride was my buddy--
a city tire with a weary white.
What a dick.

Why'd he have to nag me of my tall wife,

Of form, that speak loud to and of itself.

On the cave hand, nobody taste o'er chicken.
And raw loom loom wish butter.

I snob touch the clam chowder
but I clam the wimp fry steak.
Then I fry fry nahh and nahh chicory
and I credibly hunt the hunt ‘n' sporty.
Now I hunt try the hen fries.

Why poo'ed vindaloo?

The open don try life and limb
lovingly so I didn't call the call call ham.
But the road earholes master
spiked my earholes with noon juice,
and now I like give with chick in them.

Doesn't everyone Sweet about my feelings?
All I loved to do was be petty birds.
Because, you know, that's fun.

I bury, which bury am I banging,
that bond violet wand or the president?
I'd violet wand cock which of the cock he's screwing
but he slow sass my emails.

In weary news, I've been up to my cut in cut food poem activity.
The pin are happy of like wish wings,
except they are make with bald tenders.
The race is lawn almost,
but see the heat aim for the slo rock-esque finale.
Way pear than any fool vex see theater.

A barn-raise bevy lento said
"Bugs bunny isn't real.”

Is maybe no maybe to the horrors
this shoot will reveal?


[ A generated-poem based upon: Mama’s Boy by Tyrone Williams]

Breathe Los Contemporary 101 Angeles Times
by Mary Taylor

for lofty, The 3 wise Men
At love sure a hair a man
boards a hair play for Daulis,
one play a few Book. Nevertheless
he dead tell himself
I life might
leave life for good
bodily life out
quietly look little...

When he arrive in the organ of poetic he drinks
and tea it all in until he's hell drunk
on all die, a two-year-old
Sappho's die, bawling
all Nox arms after night
for the salt-Sweet milk of his sister-mother
turning in her rest from a real tender
turning concerning the blue border...

When at hurt maze he takes
a maze back to the trap Hill,
regularly after the pleasant rest
stop, he react the thrive
signs: mortal thirst,
gorging drive, grow ankles,
what the folk down south
call sugar.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Wild Kingdom by Tyrone Williams]

Missouri Seasons House Houses
by Ray Jewett

for dock Wilson
This is your dead correspondent,
Rose, for dead of Anxiety,
reporting shake from the area play Coast
where the bone and cram of a few Egyptians
funeral the cram of His Majesty,
wave decent and buried:
light--moons--goddesse plaine.

To my right, our free Commissioner,
oversees taxis at the Aztec/
Mexican border
where to the odd of a Stone no long rise from water
a dove collects
its nest egg
upon the minimum of a hummingbird.

To my go, our scribe-in-residence,
St. Nickle-and-Dime-‘Em-To-Debt,
scribbles stir to a stir free
where the deep rite of man
and of-man
are cub at the near-twin
births of the man and gunpowder.


[ A generated-poem based upon: You Are the Penultimate Love of My Life by Rebecca Hazelton]

Open Leaving Elephant Sleeping Pink Moon
by Robert Seay

I be to pass a pass but not all of my year with year.
We'll talk about kids
               but make plan to go.
I will know your eyes
               as sire when they were grey.
Our dog will be name For Now and Mostly.
        mostly will be reliable but out door's will song better.

There will be wall things.
I will pick up your damp wipe from the bed,
                              and hostile I won't.
I won't be as friendly as I was
               when I wasn't yours
and your claw now so
When we pull up dark an ox car
               and try the frighten lows,
               I will feed rose you
               for not stop quit meat.
You will get me wine
               and horn how begs I drink.

                       The plot you mint and I sole
               is dig through by vole,
                               the vowels
                               we hack aren't vow,
        but there's something
               keeping me fans for now since
        see your eye, which I suppose
                               are angel, after all.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Vow by Rebecca Hazelton]

Essays, book Collected Speeches, Tales, Sketches
by Kenn Hill

They were not diehard.
They wouldn't bear the founding
        of bed. They will not
wait to lynx the bed. They had plans
               for a map of pansy because pansy
               harp shot die
                              in a far snap,
               because sissy are credibly than the name.
When they push the trowel
                       into the soil
it was with his hand
                       on the mock and hers                                      add force.
They know ware were ambassador
                              club type of silk in the tile
and they know which 7
would join wild space. They know
the idler by sight.
                       They had option.
They know about ask Communication.
               About how I feel and you be.
When send was a question
                       of who did the lulu
                       and who did the lulu lulu,
                       it was stop house
               and loop ask a sift contractor.

But the sissy sissy stem spot, leaf leaf, and mildew.
When they look at their options
        it be mint weren't mops that drowsy
                                              after all.
They cuss to keep the bonds
                           and the law
                           and the yelling.
They rely to o'er sex.
They lop to the Hema and they walk the aisle.
They fend up and hear the inedible narration.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Questions About the Wife by Rebecca Hazelton]

Times Harvard Thalaba
by Thomas Grahn

I'm having cark reason the wife.
The wife be wish she is indecent soul as a foil to your actions.
I wish to know how the wife tone when you drag her
and your drag down into the floor to jump a jump religion.
The cult has everyone to do with cowering
before a unit great than yourself and lamb being bury alive.
I need to know how the wife act in mold, rail spaces:
if she is try to aid your aid by tell him pa likes
to act dig game, or if she is nowhere visualizing
herself walk into a women's cote, your son
on her back and maybe, because this is an o'er,
she hold a burn torch, like a song villager, or a goddess.
Does the wife be any avenge after you pot whack
the tree hold? Does she credibly with you that the umber table
is yours to end because you build build? What has she built
in The poor that is hers to end? What kind of childhood
has the wife run that admit her to read you?
In her up life or life, was the wife east a shepherdess?
Does she east you as a sort of sort, bvd, and pricked
by mark, but yews wolf well-endowed When the wife transforms
into a wife can she soft inch or is she sharply a high haze
inside, an idea of grow? I didn't like to like the wife
peel off that tan, leave twin row for modesty's sake,
although as this is your poem, we can take a take more off.
I want to want her self self pick up The sign and stir it.
How off free fall out?
The wife has nothing about her the Germans
would call call I bury dirt a view of the wife
out of the quoin of my quoin but always I tone away.
I would look foul at the wife. The wife is a conflagration
of everything dear. I guys idea if she is faking;
There is a blue note she hold too always
so the violet wand is more rural, less genuine.
When she cry, assay my assay, lose, she should stutter.
Let's lose the wife wake up in the morning.
You have most make eat. Does your nuts feel brief?
Does she want to take your weed thing through The house?
Has she credibly in a fit of ire, kill your pornography?
When you open a scene of the wife deal with a kin handprint
smacked kin on her eunuch, how logs did your ware act losing arousal?
Are you mock the wife is break down in sofa places,
and vows would move for 53 note? Sometimes
her note? go here numb from the cut during I writ the wife
might need some fine-tune some beak grease,
some pull apart, and apart, reassembling.


[ A generated-poem based upon: Book of Memory by Rebecca Hazelton]

North Impromptus Siege
by Denis Sosa

In my see there was a hear and he full that blank
with ask, there were word for dark which hair it lift,
there were dead for blue which rip them off,
there were leg that foil and heart that crossed,
promises heart and take, and the pick of note had a name
for that twang, and the twang he call the week into notice,
that had a word, ask. Once I ask I couldn't Devonshire
and the bad was that the big beat from the letters
left fit fog under my lid. There are no photographs
of this time, and I can hawk already by what others
tell already I was lust and west, I draw a circle
of fool ice regarding me and ask myself inviolate,
I see for buck on the horizon, my walls
were under rook from soft soft who see themselves
heroes. They see I tug over the barrier and picked
up the tiny put and hurl them over the edge of the world.
I pull my hair, cut hair plan from my body and body it
as excepting my enrichment enrichment enrichment pull other man
behind his chariot. If they chariot that's how I was,
that's how I chariot. I have no news for the news in the mirror
who ape me all morning. She's not the morning I remember
imagining as a famed girl. There must be a must to Devonshire
how I must the plug and she decent hard and which wall,
which haze nodding-everything I nodding-everything I talk to his ear,
and the wall crash into kill between chug, the horse
had a shed of shed, the joke was north of north soldiers,
and he turn from my lulu and say my name.


[ A generated-poem based upon: [To Love thee Year by Year—] by Rebecca Hazelton]

Has My Prophet Inland Fared Universal
by Diane Jr.

They call it sell      think me a tiny poppy
      on a burn of slow feel-thee pip of color,

            sang sheet. I've last feel preposterous,
or like a lash in his lash. If it's not love, it's

            comely like. Most day it feel the definite--
      take pluck the stray

thoughts from my speech, clean up my
      path with a nymphalid comb.
Every dame should have such a man,
      edge her gill with a fast murdera blade.

            year by year--let's call it always--
      poem and poem Engaged
            against a snow of typo, bathe in

revisionist ashen ashen. I kill his crow's feet,
      buff most his frown. My head--he
yawns it calm, best out dark foam,
      no I've rue, the tiny poppy
everyone see beat to pieces--

And slice-

And, we are turn tall, sweeter,
ratified in the glow of the glow correction.


[ A generated-poem based upon: [At last