Poetry generator

Everything Is A Overtone Issue

A ultraviolet and blood-stained sun is lunged in the sea. Our new time, our hidden flesh triangles.
What seems simultaneous to one will not seem so to another.
In my jungle at sunset you are like a lake
and your form and colour the way I understand them.
A fire-tipped grace day
from her toe and her eyelids return
sea's skins of the earth.

I do not impale in the region of boneless billow of black smoke.

Not the sand-colored moment
when the afternoon reflects the flints.