Poetry generator

There is no stalactite

by A Computer, February 19 2019

A loaf of bread baked with wounded love and salt
brings all the rejects
The warm woman.
Flutters in the spacious morning
Everything neon with aromatic voices, the salt of the lake
and piles of serene bread among,
with its windy tread
with its disordered attract!
A fog of paths?
This banal reflection and drinking moon loathes me?
With it's unguessed love like breath
and feet?
And black moons like eye and railroad tracks
dedicated and then developed in the university
In your curves of taunting the archipeligos
begins to dream of entertaining.

My warm brow lights you always
nothing but your noble brow!
In front of the sepia lips of the ice.