I played with the poem generator again:
Pierced with cold
Black devils and black wolves
Lay under the trees like graves
I played with the poem generator again:
Pierced with cold
Black devils and black wolves
Lay under the trees like graves
I played with an online poem generator, here’s what I came up with:
The crow is a slash
of obsidian
among the foliage
She’s mad but she’s magic
There’s no lie in her fire
~Charles Bukowski
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