Poetry generator

Every One Is A Inscription


It is a tale of misunderstood wombs in my jungle at early light of day you are like a saxophone
and your form and colour the way I pulse them. So the affluent honor lives on in a fruit,
the steady house of the landscape,
the smooth trouser that
is parsimonious and infinite.
Phosphorus elders and women.
For me they are side.


Our new evening star, our great ship squares.

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