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smile of his thirst

December 29, 2010

A long time ago.

I shook hands and faces. And
this was the fact facing me,
he would take to me that if
the ships of men appeared,
they would not last long. I could not be free
to sheer off, he will be
worn, hollow, with his arms dropped, the rest
a blank space of delightful mystery,
a solitude, and
underfoot, with a sudden.

I choose, for something; and
smile of his thirst, and the low
droning went on, landed soldiers; went on.

The retreat, I saw a
the lower jaw moving, the water
being deepest near the house.
As though they wouldn’t
cry, by heaven! Such a look
of being deaf, then a match flared, and the
short ends behind wagged to and fro in its
bony head that nodded with
grotesque jerks.

Still,
I am not
prepared to affirm the fellow
was pleased at its calm regularity.

 
 

Aug 1, Dec 28, 2010, edited from supervised generation with a bigram model. Text: Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness, generator: Gnoetry.

A while back I wrote a poem and was never sure whether to publish it here or not cause it wasn’t really interesting. There are a couple of lines in it that I liked, though, so I cut and rearranged lines and decided to post it. The mood of it reminds me of this surreal nightmare I had a while back that really disturbed me. I notice that n is disturbingly high in several of the n-grams that the final product has in common with the original text:
in its bony head that nodded with grotesque jerks
was pleased at its calm regularity
blank space of delightful mystery
landed soldiers; went on

Here’s the original, mostly I wrote it to get a sense of how tough it was to write 6 verses as in 6x6x6:

I shook hands and faces. And
this was the fact facing me,
he would take to me that if
I choose, for something; and
the ships of men appeared,
worn, hollow, with his arms dropped, the rest

of home, perhaps too much of a long
time after I heard,
the lower jaw moving, the water
being deepest near the house. I slipped the
book into my boxes when I thought I
would have been too, while the man who

has lots of villages, a
cry, by heaven! Such a look
of being deaf, then a match flared, and the
short ends behind wagged to and fro in its
bony head that nodded with
grotesque jerks. It makes me think of

it. I went a little
loose dirt, maybe. As though they wouldn’t
kill a cat. The retreat, I saw a
smile of his thirst, and the low
droning went on, landed soldiers; went on.
A long time ago. I am not

prepared to affirm the fellow to
you, that was the only thing
to eat, though a veil had
been, exactly. And
several times that the sunlight,
crossing each other, with nothing

underfoot, with a sudden. Still, and
they would not last long. I could not be free
to sheer off, he will be
a blank space of delightful mystery,
a solitude, and
was pleased at its calm regularity.

 
 

Sun Aug 1 04:22:18 2010, Text: Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness, generator: Gnoetry

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