Poetry generator

I Have Gone Mourning


You've asked me what the jaguar is recovering there with his deep brown brow?
I reply, the femininity knows this. Shall we recount?
Behind the wetting conspirators.
Where grapes meet
awes meet, outside and behind and the sound
of vinegars, to reach out and enrich in anger.
When you respond developed like a flint.

I am deprived by root and explication, by gate and sun.
Only laminated sign, just the
coral, nothing but
it. Leaf.


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