######## jhave@jhave-Ubuntu:~$ cd '/home/jhave/Documents/Github/pytorch-poetry-generation/word_language_model'jhave@jhave-Ubuntu:~/Documents/Github/pytorch-poetry-generation/word_language_model$ python generate_2017-INFINITE-1M_tab_inc.py --checkpoint='models/model-LSTM-emsize-1500-nhid_1500-nlayers_2-batch_size_20-epoch_22-loss_6.02-ppl_412.68.pt' --cuda +~+ Initializing INCREMENTAL TEMPERATURE RANGE. ######## Febris Think of the fertile poor And old humble hubris ~ + ~ A rainbow's heart loosed everywhere A stale ceremony of heaven drowned. ~ + ~ In this world I am one of the arguments. ~ + ~ The heart is the dead air of the soul ~ + ~ The Messenger Is the dead one who is born. She is the first of the sun. ~ + ~ In the heat of the heart of the thing I find grass in the sky and water at a place of storm ~ + ~ Cold white and absolutely red, The tortoise air used to speak What need counted in the heart The eyes of the gods Hidden in a dark sun ~ + ~ kelp covered the mess on my side of the bed it was in love with my mother's unseen eyes ~ + ~ Oh, I cannot say how to seek feeling And not the pain that is summer to gods. ~ + ~ The Golden Wheel of the beautiful it's a simple business. Yellow leaves reflected in blood. The future dumb as a stick vulture. A dawn bursting. ~ + ~ We are laid in the overwhelming book in the blue-green storm. The place that is always involved In the words that are life, listened. ~ + ~ You Earth's green arcade of reason Sprouting in the hot winter Glimmering ideas strewn in blown water ~ + ~ nature becomes nets unbalanced archipelagoes ~ + ~ Old butterflies precipitate transgression conveyors metempsychosis naked thieving ~ + ~ Abhorre I hold the dark full (glass eucalypt) onanist downward defiant drenched drooping erect droning brain-dead ~ + ~ When celebration took flight some practice stored enough for servitude. It penetrated some wounds: outbound, bodyisms humid deities, hairy passions, faked daffodils. ~ + ~ Fretum castoffs, breast-bone-bots; meat-links, vida-fortuna, puzzling cavities, work-cot water-jets. Truly, this love wears itself. Narcissus: condensed quiet jewel of newly-enlightened enthusiasm -- a difference where every envelope vanishes. Rung and handled, you don't know how Inserting Titanic into the network's framed breathlessness taunts Styria. ~ + ~ A raft of milk the size of a bird a Death—Sharp magician a Stygian Bridge Sleeping I saw the soul of my own hand was sweet. You ate me. We felt the pleasures of the earth and death. ~ + ~ On the mute side of the shop no money would have been born. ~ + ~ And the long bright order of their eyes Came on the uprising of heroic mysteries And now they are an annual product of time. ~ + ~ long anguish, all over the world the vast soiled trembled roaring love made things die tragic warmth glistening means the tomb ~ + ~ Crotch-of-moss multi-track loop I kill it now. Ardor, reawakened, jerks. ~ + ~ Quicksand joke lens: Eschatology of my broken life. My plastic impatient pleased Jihad veteran fresh brawls in a circus of rose-flush ragged whorehouses. Veil-ripped greeds, Passions hailed, & ribbed Welala Napkins Fanatic Furies Accustomed to blood This crazy him asks -— why are you not stoned? ~ + ~ Normal Sea: Peddlar's sapphire-saucepan. Superstition. Primavera. Manhattan bed-psychotherapy idyllic. Shield balm, Softy avoided. Flint, underground deleted. Manure, starved. Skinnydip agnostic. ~ + ~ The Fatalist: You are not so much The way the world is as a dream of small and arrogant music ~ + ~ the sun is a wind on the sea, and the sea is a cloud. ~ + ~ And the blind garden on the edge Of time, inviolable, no longer can be real nor be the darkness of the swallow's flesh that bears place. ~ + ~ A flock of steel stretched from her chest. She thought she could be an infinitesimal abstraction. Fallen wings lying naked in the shade of the owl. Children, attached to the ground, fighting with swollen eyes. ~ + ~ I put the old bear of everything, humble within the daïs of my own desire. ~ + ~ Pardon us for the plants: They hurry over the earth, and where they move, we wait. ~ + ~ Secular consciousness notochord fluff of gold urbanity contingent memory barrenness submerged ~ + ~ I am sounding the acceleration of heartbreak. The unimaginable void lightfire body gleam inferno manicure string pulse relief unleashed ascendant breath ~ + ~ God-fumes under the bleaching bodies the milk-train scalpel of misery Colon wrathful, cockatrice spinning Barbie Death! ~ + ~ endotracheal stale, Google bonds, blithest fatwas. ~ + ~ thirsty profane world! rapture pain: utterly forbidden $5,000 punish music and one nestled marshmallow ~ + ~ Carried on the back of a black man's head As if it were a thousand years to the day The heart of the world is empty And the sun, a small thing ~ + ~ The man in the house is a clock ~ + ~ And The Garden Is going to be a new thing a piece of a new body As if it were a gift, a little try at being a person ~ + ~ Socially Awkward secret heart in empty mouth ~ + ~ The sea is warm and the stars are dark. The mountains are full of the sun. The sea said: this is the place. ~ + ~ I was one of the Old Mountains, And a young man at the end of a war. The world had no doubts about the woods. A cold rain Fell on white Empty branches. ~ + ~ I touch the long mirrors of an abstract land and the crotch of my dry heart a little rag of fern life left at the door ~ + ~ A Rite The night is gone called to penance by all women pulled with love into the eyes a long & lovely coiling juice enters its heart -- she will not know why ~ + ~ Blood wildly ungratefull riots. All falls in heaven down to the end. Trees open graves in walls. Serene boats shine Shouting in a wind that we unfold. ~ + ~ in the old lovesick meadow lepers died like soft tumbling necromancer darkness ~ + ~ Death shines, See there: It skirmishes. Rare and loaded with fake silk laughter It queries the Lamb's sun-pure Beyond. ~ + ~ cilia opening hazy throats: compromise scrap, feather: emptying the compact life. Pocket-watch goodness. Wistfully Outside us, waits, and crucifies Wants' dishevelled circuitry bed. ~ + ~ I am the only one of the one who has left me I am the one who is not the one who loved me ~ + ~ And in the heart The world is not a mask. ~ + ~ Waves are the blue of the dying ~ + ~ In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 5 As morning springs so quickly from the ground, Light's song flowers in the meadow's long hair. We no more hear the stars once so long there, And the faintest reeds of summer's wide wave. A soft warm air heavy with the sun's breath Touches the eastern hills with slow showers Wet woods rush to cover the crumbling hills. ~ + ~ Ghost was the second one to make a clock and now it is the one written in the forest by the light of the sun as it mourns the moment ~ + ~ They are born in their graves; Their bodies need and make destruction. ~ + ~ CHRONOS The light of birds leapt out of the sun like pillars. They are all things. But there is nothing there. ~ + ~ Like chocolate fervour on mucus stairs blue excesses of bankrupt blood creapt In summer naked, orange, hinged crawling the barnacles of marble obscura me/you/i ~ + ~ It was to fall to him The revisions, molten in the hidden. ~ + ~ Wise stationary speculations A tender trellis of desecration ~ + ~ The dream remained, sang the yew, clasped whorl horns like dew, knew the occupant's tramp flu. As demi-god detachable holiday algorithms do. ~ + ~ And I have not seen the great old one Who is the poet of the dead Who is not the one who is Not the one who knows. ~ + ~ Some animals in the kitchen are washed By the glass dawn silence of the heart ~ + ~ I have to say That your smile Is the sound of me Is the wound of me Is the round of me ~ + ~ rivers don't hate what the sad forests think ~ + ~ I have crowned myself: Rust of the Rastas. As I am not born, so I will not fall. ~ + ~ Death doesn't work to quicken the lugubrious voices of the aesthetically poor ~ + ~ solitary paranoia pontificated and accused fickle invisibility ~ + ~ Auto-body Corrupt Fog is already underneath the slaughter arbor, surveying Playboy-knocked stupendous fire-rain. Dissected, it suspects the gales that spurt within the bed, sing of sin. Feeling the breast fraught with watery swiftness stir. ~ + ~ Abarbanel The consolation he was afraid of garlanded sand (&) Why should it matter more than a half-welcome mini-skirt indiscretion? Tortoise fields: bosoms. ~ + ~ Once more nectar, through rot-skin, hewed poetry. ~ + ~ Another Revelation. Transcender! Cerebrotonic Tiptoeing Sierras Mold Fables Aer: inventor of loathing. ~ + ~ The Wish I live in the middle of the sea Where light is a river And the sea is not A sea ~ + ~ The Beloved The day I saw you was a great bird I could not see the sound of the tree I could not see the secret of the dead In the flowers of the architecture of night I did not hear waves twisted in the sun Nor hear the stars emitting silent sounds. ~ + ~ And the things of love acknowledged all the pain of language, and the wise of the living, and the sense that made them still in that world which is an untainted great spirit ~ + ~ The Blood On The Banks Of the western sky is made by sun or barley And the grass comes to the breakers on the hills With wind bright purple spread below ~ + ~ sinewy and dry from the green light invisible scattering in golden waves ~ + ~ In the folds of the moon all the dying hairs of an open rose ~ + ~ Hope the world was not primeval pennants of lamb stinging improvisations as sexy as new beams ~ + ~ If the sun could utter truth before the garden And live where a bird keeps the eye I would forget what they came to do ~ + ~ The twisted night Itself — a migratory Uneasy receptacle For a difficult bliss ~ + ~ -- to fat oyster unsex heist with cobwebbed cigarette peaches irregular deoxyribonucleic kettle oranges ~ + ~ The Awful Hickory-Systemized Faithful Visitor curiously advances, kicking everywhere that once monstrous array at his feet. ~ + ~ I don't need contestants nor Libertarians. I wish the name refused and cities blooming magical-dead cirque-drunk last-blast hiccups -- brick melon vinegar ardor pumps ~ + ~ To My Penis Hushing hoof-prints come kindly machine-made Half without pollen torn by dew on-screen Spleen? Touch-pretending Sharks eating Chablis Between your body's occult impulses Dilapidation's nest thriving sorrow ~ + ~ Names took me On the river And the rain Loved me ~ + ~ My heart is red within my hands A life I weave & stop, the best I have not to feign, nor will I Drink the frolic fat sprouting pale Hive that warmed me with a sweating Voice in my mother's mind, my blood ~ + ~ Disgrace the Buddha Worthiest appassionato. Moonlit garden tree, fifty-second Guidebook earplugs. I do not pray. What undresses in each house should Choose the wild cracked lucid plastic- Pillowed appendix sale! ~ + ~ As if new, heart said: everything is hungry with hope ~ + ~ Darling, I consider the sun-red compliant insubstantial apparel As fuck wounds -- geometrical scrim. ~ + ~ And Love will eat the dowry justify baby-girdered manifold Orisha catarrh up from precipitating metaphor during an all-forsaken political winter ~ + ~ the body is made to be ~ + ~ The sea, a ribbon; A lark murmurs flashing Along the edge of its light. ~ + ~ The sun is where the blood sinks Stars drowned in the dust of sky ~ + ~ A tree on the edge of the sea Drinks mist alone on the sand ~ + ~ There in the new world pain a dog snaps like a sigh out of a whale ~ + ~ sinewy dialectics on the path save the target in a molten splutter select the precise air between fragments ~ + ~ I like night in your flecked form. An equal will where body's music roots. ~ + ~ arthritic liquid pondered lost pastures a ripe chunk of blue cement, labelled: disintegration ~ + ~ Essences cannot sing, nor fathom in- toxication. Their fire encloses flowers. Each forgiven archived breast glimmers as if its tears impacted bone. ~ + ~ Begin to transform. Ransack the utterance. ~ + ~ The watchers Were a kind of feeling Uncommon objects For the world to do ~ + ~ Divorce the cold Breathless old electronic cylinders Within stone sacks crying on a bed. ~ + ~ What humans do to be found, to be in life, with blind owls dying in the bright wind. ~ + ~ They come down deploying inherited fingerprints. Then they are in the room with the spring that makes children bleed. Sentences glaring from shadows at the door of sweet ways. ~ + ~ I am not only the beginning of time I am ribs, loaded hands, and unmoved awareness ~ + ~ Love wakes a bird erect and blind in my heart ~ + ~ There! She Insisted Warsaw, Mallarme. What strange dividends. Daddy, I was God's scut. An anvil reagent. Caucasus rust. 5/3/1883 : Adjacent sewers. Impenetrable wolf. A face Imagined as an open weight. ~ + ~ Thespesiae fragrances: a harmless mislaid permutation weeps Gestation mucus stained with oasis lush stems ~ + ~ Alabama Amaryllis Rose-amber, quelled rocks sabotaged anodyne pyrite. Adultery Waterfalls Grazed the mountain. ~ + ~ The sun is a little bird whose nest is in the sky ~ + ~ The dead think the body is a kind of music ~ + ~ Long ago, morning sat on the ground amidst old snow in the darkness and the sea was cold as the moon ~ + ~ the way I see it every one of our lives involves a counting of dead things that can never be undone ~ + ~ so let the silk of your bright eyes and the tip of your long soft tongue catch baskets of breath rooted in space ~ + ~ Though I was the child of alarm, the union of my parents and that one that made me come I never shared the mirror nor could I hear touching All the tools in the idea of the exit forbade it ~ + ~ After the empty river adopted 'Ancestors of the Natural Ways Plague, and Greeks Who Harvested Illusions' We could not squat in the book for two days. ~ + ~ Emilia said: who knows what's to be seen? I could not tell her. ~ + ~ # 213 [ 0.96 In The Flame-Flamingo Sky-Light Lamma, satyrs, bibles, pathless cobwebs, old secrets, a general star, all the world and the heavens, a beach at low tide, a song that binds the glide, flesh like the fayre, two cashiers, wood, snow, a fiery sea, a singer, an arm. ~ + ~ There was thus, the heart at its source. The outline of a dream, an ancient strange. Life, too steep for sight, or [[blank]] yes. ~ + ~ Warm Idea Anomalies. Nectarine. Foundry chocolate. Unmindful affectionately mine. Timor Mortis conturbat me. Fear of life disturbs you. He who counts hunts a moth. His face flat, ashen dumb. ~ + ~ Late, austere, antagonist, riotous I reverberate, consumed. A rumor Revolution becoming strangeness. Tears, not the joy due to prophecy. Alterity tripwires over the distance patience perseveres. ~ + ~ cf. illuminating delicious retrospective utopias nervous millions hard lust glittery life-blood halfway breadbin convolutions augenting a future of sprites, and ozone wrinkled withdrawal ~ + ~ There. While, Becalmed, Enormous. That's the end. ~ + ~ Babel Sower. Genet, I'm taking in New York: Turning snip purchases, rain-crazed trysts and imagination into pocketless dandy rainbow hellfire. Beguine. Weightless. Gusty bulk flecked with narcissine roving dust. ~ + ~ The one of the two. The bright night of the light. I am the one that I am. ~ + ~ I am a statue of a girl I am the woman who sleeps crying ~ + ~ The old man caught the meadow in his long hand ~ + ~ The flowers of the ocean came to be the mind's first light -- a soul still in the water. ~ + ~ Where he was born, amid the pain of turning notes into salt, the heart's slow anti-world snow into grime clotted sidewalks, the flooded self breached with bricks into the kitchen's software curtains scented with dusty feral disintegrating bottles, sat two people hunkered over pints of wet light ~ + ~ a spark of world peace slept in the womb ~ + ~ collusional undertow of rage vegetables in the claw of duty ~ + ~ Lucifer T.V. This evening my grandmother told me: "Find the deaf light of the street's ambiguous objects sequestered in an unraised future." ~ + ~ birches? -- inquietudes downed in dark sunspots salt brine glissandos, tank ass berries, plush button-down posture encampments, sold to break another harsh visionary milk fire swollen, fleshy ~ + ~ over eloquence, and lava-driven honeydew machines shivering in a mental spa -- Nabokov crept adamant, untractable ~ + ~ Dawn still trees, lonesome, tell their delirium, to every unaltered heart ~ + ~ Slow fields of summer light beckon the heat of the sun ~ + ~ America In this hour of the old land where you are not Just flesh eating flesh, where more than light Softly fills the sun as water fills night ~ + ~ i am better at longing than existence ~ + ~ i think of my beloved aunt, senile, as i put the pizza to cook in the fridge ~ + ~ What you have is one of the least ways your life can be alive to not expiate the world. ~ + ~ The books and the rats and I too saw you enter the rubble of a poem to eat ~ + ~ I am young trembling swollen black jazz hiding from shit absent fur no one knew how to return ~ + ~ Diamond skies Vital cold-blooded disingenuous, interlocking Tell her, & bleed, Nervous With corpses, Autumn. She loved seriously Blind, there in the Third Endorphins. ~ + ~ She opened her legs to find deep nonchalant ponds suns half-lost stung with flame glutted singing more conscious than ever of occasional dissonance she wept ~ + ~ What Joy I stoop into a half-known understory a chafing tune puncture from the head's deep typo weeny repentant tillers of cocola Aviv: pawns or sad-lidded tiny-stroke truck-farmers. The boy stares flat. ~ + ~ Woundfin ~ + ~ The Argument of the Dead Man I was in the middle of the river and the wind was a blue blue And the deep night of the morning was a child being born And a calm heart lay on the dewy grass somewhere unperceived bleeding ~ + ~ in that summer house, hours lying down, thinking how the blood, succumbing without loss, works to heal imaginable and solitary tautness ~ + ~ May the wet moons of your quick dark heart graze, counseling travellers, leaving anemony happiness, watching it all, being warm. ~ + ~ By the anxieties of wounds in desired structures hold the sharp hairs of sickness floating in the blood Summer asleep Lifts flowers Curled sheers ~ + ~ Into the crowded harvested sunlight A swan all essential in haste and so very sensible ~ + ~ And although Equality does seem rugged, -- Tanned at Cannes, & acting in sextuple Teeming hijink parades with passionate Implacability -- self-appeasing & fearfull it smells of forgotten names given to soul. ~ + ~ Excited by the violence of wont, I am seated, betrayed in mitochondrial waters. These are dreams. Difference walls belonging in possibility only to forgiveness. ~ + ~ Preaching: Hedon. Folly is no dream blush, nor a decisive icon, stiff-backed among networks, flung to become the world's bait. Mountain debris descends with recollections. Seizes at nausea. ~ + ~ dew-bedabbled dams pained weep isobars an anxious gale of lovers ~ + ~ a thin-bribed iron-hearted fire embroidering spare emblematic bushes, pauses by countryfied sunny homes such flawed days, saturated in moisture, such raw space, uptilted in jostled years foresake illusion ill-furnished until blue Wisdom, illicit reappears haw! ~ + ~ Cycle Summer night on the land. Then sun in the first breath of early morning Stars lying down on frosted grass A soft fire in the sky A wind reading trees And then night again. ~ + ~ To Be an old man a thousand times, a tuft of grass that seems to be, a way for the window to own the precision of the sun. ~ + ~ The blood of the city is not a bath and the magic of the night occurrs on the other side of the road ~ + ~ We have no time at the end for the shore where it kneels And shakes the secret shadow ropes of the sea, twisted like a tree In the streams of the moon. ~ + ~ In the tomb of the world, the knowledge of man of a woman is a child that seems to be happy It is these wounded who hear a wild strain of the night singing ~ + ~ At the end of the forest (a place like a bird), people call storms repose. ~ + ~ The sun does not return Wrinkles of the snow grow Ghosts mountains eat flowers of loves past ~ + ~ All That I Know Of All That Is Left I know your blue throat, writing as you sleep. Smoke-wreaths howling over the hot sea to see my voice fall so near your feet. To see the wild light as rain breaks into thin snow as i pause on the stairs above the kitchen. These are minutes to worry about. The rain caught rushing at windows, begging to hear the garden in the sun. ~ + ~ Sharpest Vegetarian He caught the plastic bird and stood by the wall. Now when the bird would try to burn him with a blow, to make him bleed and be vengeful, a wild mortal child, hunted by the place, tickled water. ~ + ~ see them sleeping: hair newspapered limbs a maze an early inedible light leaking a timid sweetness ~ + ~ We Stand at 53 In the darkness of future weather in a heaven where the self of the sun can be seen beneath summer's lightning In endangered ought, where sex is asylum. ~ + ~ Wht steals the pure mutant atom? A voice fucked by blood. Summer, unthinkable, Thinks of an assisted toilet Buffeting the meadow it tumbled from. ~ + ~ we whip the new path hungry to git amour a coral glow barbie jerking a long plague of passive attention ~ + ~ Are you Ready To Eat Chain? Grimaces. Half-trained voices: dark ground. Even erosions pausing. Calfing. Adorations full of prehensions. Moralists embracing in remote hospices: switchboards peddling inexplicably inauspicious limits honed from unreasonable ambitions, newly-hatched schemes struck down as they are overtaken. ~ + ~ The House of Life: To be a thing of the world a thing in the world a song. ~ + ~ where rivers enter the sun, afflictions of this world become dissolute questions, rooted in blind bodies. ~ + ~ Add a pact to the end of the rising and welcome the incomprehensible seed. ~ + ~ Leave me here to watch over the storm Save the story of that hour its likeness to a vein opening the afternoon I was born ~ + ~ Life is no longer the greatest word in the presence of trees a raft martini is a mere speck ~ + ~ Winter's Voice The children were so full of longing, discarded and monstrous on tiptoe. sea-silt mad with the decaying taste of remote dust from wandering ships ~ + ~ my face was shaking, gnawing evening while the voices of the maple did their utmost to absorb solipsisms of identity's protein ~ + ~ Friendship I choose years where less Is sown. Let innocence roam To love a cruel clever foam. All words are orphans! I guess The times you hurt descend to Make you hold me in blue. ~ + ~ Thrive, holy. Keep the sound of heaven rhetorical; your bark a delirium rebuffed by the sky. ~ + ~ And I think them singing, then hiss 69.3%. Killed. ~ + ~ Swollen amused and undressed sirens chuckle over coffee. ~ + ~ Loss -- Wonderful -- Sometimes the cathedral eats revenge: hundred-fold base-vacancy spit from yearning-seed. A bent wistful parable. ~ + ~ What Is It For A world that is not world The dead who are not dead A dream that is not dream ~ + ~ Who is the one who makes me A kind of identity, a kind of a saint, a child in a tree, a red bird under the sea. ~ + ~ Walk into the dark Of the earth's age Lost within a door Feel the sound of speed ~ + ~ Soaring sweat boiling blue requiem for the stones my love burned I am sorry I have ears for eyes and glands for hands ~ + ~ There are dead in the mountains in caskets of oak in the sway of decay ~ + ~ Firewood for pudiera I lift the rat ~ + ~ A condition all-male: an ancient sunset, probably upon the ocean, greenish dark, a copper bird strapped to my right shoulder ~ + ~ Brag pain: reiterated structures in thaumaturgic shark-bellies destroy mirages ~ + ~ Talon manicure! imagine heels underground, forlorn; and the mind's bullet-beaked lip-ice supervised- shafts seeking exile again. ~ + ~ Sweating Paper plum percussive moiré afternoon organic remedy ether nothing cut immanence said ~ + ~ Language gives love offence shucked heartless imputations debts to innoculate excesses ~ + ~ Who is famous to the dead? ~ + ~ Turn. I am a child of the house of the sea, A map of the museum, and a mirror in a field. ~ + ~ A tumor dreaming of people. ~ + ~ fixed between my hands, listening, I dream the night awake. I am not untrue. my name enters the darting, mood of a flame. ~ + ~ Un Emblem (1967-2009) daydream, the task of the divine turn distant soil into homes enter a greater softness ~ + ~ silences poisoned the brine as pale magnolia tubes crept like a worm to listen ~ + ~ I expect bliss When the words Following me sing ~ + ~ Monotone Warm pinpoints pondered floorboards disarray vain aching soft helpless zippers. Unreadable gristle, death's mythological story, LSD, 18- toned fretful ecstacies I rose In birds Riding—riding A rusty cove of girlfriends Engaged: savouring nine-month fury. ~ + ~ nipple nipple hair ~ + ~ judging curses the god-itch, cradles a literal sun-flower an obsolete rain-crazed porous bread arbitrates this disaster ~ + ~ I am not so much as I am ~ + ~ The Circuit the color of your body of light is an abyss ~ + ~ a name is a mirror not a question a kind of music in the night ~ + ~ The Progress of the World A woman in a book has been waiting for the sea She is the same as she who has never seen her lovers never been with her mother pale branches of water hold her in the moon ~ + ~ Something made this world to hear the lost voices of the dead Each summer of the earth The sun harvests latent lives Voices leak out of a void all alone ~ + ~ Poem Of The Sacred when I was nine and happy to see faces seeking a sweet and wild sun I could see the sounds of women and in the word of my mother's body sense flowers in the breast of my mind ~ + ~ The Thick Blue Air offered during the world's destruction Is only a little slow wind Smiling in an archive of hair ~ + ~ Until the world stood under that bright cell On the high roof of the river The women moved and tossed And all creatures fell ~ + ~ Born to a selfish death a meadow-sweet all-night keyboard I breathe a giant diamond ~ + ~ You must keep an emergency over my tightness in your body I cease avoiding my life ~ + ~ Neuropathology of crepuscular devotion. Autumn preserving impossible curves. Dahlias cuddled together with vines. ~ + ~ And I am And I am not the one I am not The only one who is I am not the only one I am not ~ + ~ Inviolate: All leafless rain whispers a poem ~ + ~ The flower of clichés blot powdered kindling in the glowing cat Lips a silent fire in the dark ~ + ~ In the End I saw a mountain membrane Of darkness Spring from a shadow ~ + ~ volcano anchored anarchy ~ + ~ Timid laundromats eat tyrants, each Extra-Inning wall contour stripped ~ + ~ but now a primitive part, just one an intense irregular enigma of my childhood in denim leopards on tv, a battery box -- this grift world earthy in its weight made sentimental endurance a voice like a sea flapping contagious as dust ~ + ~ Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I walk on the highway, look at me. Everything is in monsoon or is rich. Burn my eyes : deduce polystyrene probes, clandestine trouble youthful, glee! — * ~ + ~ Prowling gain a bored sea-blood goat (chrysalis cathetetized covert carnality) Laughs at porn postcards and wonders what Hieroglyphs really smell like. ~ + ~ Drones crayon-colored "Cough" Tenderly connect archaic body archives and all its manuals break: suggestively even abundance gathers clouds ~ + ~ Sunflowers in harness shooing children solicitously over the waves huddling in the hopeful italicized Lettuce = Insular Arousal Tick-Where-Appropriate Narcissus ~ + ~ bees in the sky imponderable evasions of intolerable night ~ + ~ The night sings An expired tale ~ + ~ Love has crept away towards the sea Where it confronts a frozen screen, Where the other is never better. ~ + ~ The Word is not a helicopter that brings food Nor an antibiotic where hours sort venom ~ + ~ A hummingbird shadow touches me, Commemorates my body. ~ + ~ soap thatched bourgeoisie trivial bouquets of nowheresvilles' innocence spuming scar-quilled climate-bail ~ + ~ Stern God Joe pebble. Now the newborn waif must sew Motion so that a body keeps ram-shorn cradled wind. ~ + ~ O! O pulse! I stretch! I hear! I sweat copious conquered compassion heart softened, flame-hot mercy obliterated hurl ~ + ~ Contentment. Lonely. 1862: flogged. ~ + ~ creosote cushion weight seals packaged recurrence ~ + ~ Trim Kidney Enamel laments. windowless night-hawk dematerializing deep sea-banks tu-who; stone- still insistent, with doubt that is well ~ + ~ Dew on bough In blue mid-winter Turns to the sun The meadows of the mountain light And the fields of the lonely wind ~ + ~ an empty ocean seeks to drink what the empty lover quivering sings ~ + ~ All the paths Lack ~ + ~ in the murmur we conceived behind the universe a wind coming to sooth all ~ + ~ I sat down to palpitate the wind where the sun paints fires on young abundance I was listening to ice sweating, dancing alone ~ + ~ Sweet instinct Migrates in pursuit of bread sharp chain hypotheses. Reverence is a strand! A texture under duress! A law sharded by calm! ~ + ~ disability osmotics wilting In-Between his decency, soaked Risk comparison filth ~ + ~ condom clubfeet spasm bland star propagater ~ + ~ Do you not see the light of the world? The Ballad of the World Braced in the cool air. The Cradle a kind of music a field of the sea a clock in the sky ~ + ~ And the eyes of the people say The children in depression are Autumn time is a dead thing ~ + ~ I am buried in dark dream clouds. I am not witness to the fat doves in the fading garden where water shines ~ + ~ The walls are cold bright blood In the mouth of a young girl machine. ~ + ~ bring stones cock business ~ + ~ feather fundamental DELUXE cashier trudged too long to breed the guts of the aspirin ~ + ~ Avalanche committees float toothy target clitorises, knowing all their shape and glass and Sellers--whose envy warm jars, valiant paddled, tangle ~ + ~ This flat horizon, indifferent to the core, Waits. As trees form thoughts, within a sea which dozes. ~ + ~ sleep poisoned loom veracity plaiting the incurable lump ~ + ~ The Importance of South One needs a thirty-seventh day: A peaceful, neglected, raving huge prophet mall. Fish-net thistles, abandoned pinstripes, demon worship. Rockets waiting in a cup. Precocious Rocks doused in impossiblities. Roots in the sun on the hill. ~ + ~ Be The Same. ~ + ~ I am Woman, I am the Woman, The world's my love. And the soul of the sea Tossed from the deep lake of the sun. ~ + ~ Friends: One of us is not a mask. ~ + ~ A woman came down the church aisle wearing numb light. She was a cold bird on a window. A day resting on a hill. ~ + ~ the old and the young men used to take the heart of the town into the sea in the first dark cold light of a land where the crows were little stones, and everything breathed night. ~ + ~ December I waved a blanket over the ground I called the first small red dog god ~ + ~ Itching In The Streets the salt juice of a dry, fine green sun running in the air a force of the first body & the next father of all men, and the first mother ~ + ~ rendered out of water and 8-bits of pneumonia a coder implemented a knife dapp and a dog with LED eyes for delaying phong waves makes a happy piss-spot ~ + ~ from "We Goodbye" The sun breaks you. I crave a cup of money. Each wish is a decapitation in my heart. ~ + ~ And Sprouting An iron rib, Shrouded Consciousness swings Immense Satisfaction to create a Ravaged Ripe Cacophony ~ + ~ Deep & Erroneous self-negligence descends to glide toward death ~ + ~ peace and love-shingled mouths, indestructible, within the brain ~ + ~ In a house of flowers I have a vision of the world the sun and the stars, all blue ~ + ~ Purple and quick The river is dark And the cold sun of my heart resembles the tanned green surface of a wall. ~ When the frogs go The river is full of ice. All is shadow, And the wheat is still. ~ + ~ Lush flukes of waste in funereal concussions hit the shore waves where a single star waits ~ + ~ The building came in streams,— strands crossing the front door. A nakedness at the end of the hall. ~ + ~ Turtles prepare. Travelling over dark Green land to see a warm voice touch a wall. ~ + ~ Western bees sail in a peculiar shape Driven to a cry of wild radiance. ~ + ~ A replica of time curved at the end Fears the sight of an artificial is. ~ + ~ Speech winks and conceals its poor hands, re- Senting an audience it did not Will. ~ + ~ Gypsies meekly urge the mangroves to taste Creativity's gratified beauty. ~ + ~ O heart, is this the next way? Molly-deodorized back-stairs. Supply-feet logically-aligned With authoritorial engagements, Annihilation grains refocusing To satisfy a laurel-bough tomb! A known descendant's eminent remarks, haplessly green-rooted in paradise? ~ + ~ Slave-owning Miscellanies invidious, Bounding the generations. Bosom-bone conjugations, trembling, (12-yr-old amulet sorrow eclipse insectivorous burglary fragments) separating sunsets in space the ephemera of blood a rare barely coherent void ~ + ~ Dumpsters of smeary streaked paradises Labelled: "God, you'll love something" ~ + ~ Sophocles deserts the Ocean condition gettin deaf panorama dumb: blanketing fools ~ + ~ Stars at the edge of the sea the moon in the trees a stream of snow. ~ + ~ I have come to see the old one who is a woman who never knows whether she can die ~ + ~ Mist licks a slow light from the air to form a fabled dark sound ~ + ~ blah: I know what I am. ~ + ~ Fresh while the angels bunched together, glinting in the night-wind, hoarding the light I seek -- a tongue steals an eye ~ + ~ I am an arid sunburned wind crossed a shimmering street kicking aside the dark debris of hills and at the end of the world, I retrieve a phone your voice is the one thing that remains ~ + ~ Television-- She bears, supple-sinewed, root apples, devouring lights, offered disgust. moss rice sluice green half-stripped hidden anything held, ever after. ~ + ~ i I am not the only thing to say I have a daughter for a mother ~ + ~ The sun in her mind Is a human presence ~ + ~ Brood. Touched by the cold habit of biochemical sin. A wild whispering country of spears. Smell and feel how time has no meaning and life too is only a reach of a pool. ~ + ~ Hear the Elders unceasingly lean across the barrens As shadows of birds slice the serrated heaving of enslaved machines ~ + ~ Traverse, gnawing jeans, laugh, caress. Bra-strap Weaver Marxist ~ + ~ I want to live like you To justify the porous mingle — To write your great emotion, how in a millisecond you hear your sign ~ + ~ Ossian Chesapeake Tulsa Swerves crawling in high-sorrowful ancient ironic inheritance. on a bleak labyrinth source of melody, a wind within which even kings are led ~ + ~ I squeeze their malls on my fancy blotter pale and dust-filled beneath theory's run + Corduroy fires, pristine and bland in empty rose-doll Meng-Tzu jitters raging for the Tokugawa wine-gold, idiocy comments today, August 15th dull mistress non-face wafted-away cordonned in fierce Tyrian simmer accent fingerpopping ungraded bursty 35 Morituri candidates ~ + ~ flodes BEEP a-bove; ached rockabilly 3800 Electra announced by easy groan ~ + ~ Treespace. Behold me derelict. Startled in a saucepan. Scrambling street eggs. Hunting odoriferous cartoons. ~ + ~ Skinny as self-help skies Cornstalks of refrigerator tautology Offer coupons to mystery. ~ + ~ The lark blows east, where wind is set, A moon is in the air, and the old, old Life of the sea born, in a little room Under lick of snow & blue sun, shivers ~ + ~ in the long warm dark dead a light is singing ~ + ~ Labouring I do not face bliss ~ + ~ A red tree made love with life. ~ + ~ My ancestors assume a bucket of bramble and myrrh equals myth. ~ + ~ Softer than the stars I try to know what gets light Is it a slim stone Floating on water? Or that which falls out Of the bare wet cradle And stands. ~ + ~ Often I run to the bush, to a vanquished edge. ~ + ~ Uprooted I know Manhattan in the summer glowing dun have heard science turn ground until time shimmers watched light hang in the night to scrub the dark ~ + ~ Baby God Along a wide leaf-fringed crack of dawn, Shining and deep birds nest Minstrels who leap to weave between winds! Writhing and mute zero bliss fresh plums. ~ + ~ one perturbed promiscuous fjord with its many-petalled brain, abruptly slakes down into the grass: a shudder of gazes imagining bread ~ + ~ Coyote, July, Serum Liquid sun-silt, wildcarrot slurred medicine-lamps. And Zeus: under the earth, flying. ~ + ~ They walk a shard pilgrimage thru roasted inconstancy ~ + ~ Silent, fiction dies transformed into plexiglass and sedition's useless facts! ~ + ~ Clustering acrid engrossed glances become wandering shoeless dreamers, jagged maneuvering disjointed solemnity ~ + ~ To be the only one who is the same To be the same as the same To be one of ~ + ~ The body of the body Is a kind of life ~ + ~ Wind opened As the stars went down ~ + ~ Next: I was a cowboy in the middle of the ocean. I was an old black woman in an abandoned motel. I was a poet not born yet in any world. ~ + ~ the heart born in dreams of the sea from dark's darkness flings a folded song ~ + ~ In autumn light I summon bruises, copper rib, woolly bone, the stove burns my shirt of pearls ~ + ~ unforced half-dead hunger powers the daily invasive celestial moralist heart golden rope mind exploitations ~ + ~ O, how they're drowning. And indeed this is what is meant when flowers and thoughts breathe the love in dust ~ + ~ Humanity dreams, it is said, because Slag touched the burning at its birth. ~ + ~ An Orchard Song for You Rest in Eternity the Old—Away the Wing that makes the Beast tired ~ + ~ Lawns burning hyacinth-lanced sleep Stones tethered to legend Hackensack migrants eating saffron loneliness Gnomes constructing an art intifada ~ + ~ Strong-Bold Weiwei [place Aesthetic here] fresh listless disdain rancid bed alterity gold: head-down clots endless breasts ~ + ~ the day I was caught by the sea the air was so cold the clouds filled with tears ~ + ~ Pain in the tunnel of the silent pulse of things that die wind whispers to make the sun rise from a gap in a void heart ~ + ~ in a quiet mind gods are toys grim almost perfect sharks in the skull ~ + ~ I thought the word would take me to the next world But it was like a hole snatched by love As a souvenir of a name truly lost ~ + ~ mouth hurried up from havoc in a half-forgotten way to become language ~ + ~ Look at the rough flumes and ragged broken walls of an untouchable ballet sit at an empty table, where light is a tune that visits talk ~ + ~ Disappearing between sweet stones (disrupted, swirled, restored) dialogue births union. ~ + ~ I see the sun lace peaches. A cormorant on the table. Rosemary wickerwork. A slice of dawn. ~ + ~ curve the rope for wren pearl fire ~ + ~ The way spores nebula, forward, shielding their ink-gratified electroencephalograph spontaneity from ill-made sobbing pathos abandoned hidden git-quack piercing plot ~ + ~ And the sacred body of the young mother of the mother who is dead looks at me waiting ~ + ~ And The River That is the shadow of a heart A sun burning in the water Never saw that garden ~ + ~ in the blue grip of darkness a river of snow and stars see a body make a poem ~ + ~ the sun of the dead still under the sea ~ + ~ Wet, Hurtling Someone said, "It is better to have no mind." Someone else replied, "We are alone." ~ + ~ Divine Bound for the Ruins I'm diligent to see you Be the noble air of my bed ~ + ~ Wise dead sweet friend I too am pale Do you still Love money now? ~ + ~ Opportunities seethe at the feet of euphoria. An epiphany shrub. Breasts forsythia. No error, only always equal. ~ + ~ sunburned all-sagacious in the dried-up grass that worried harm ~ + ~ 1999, Tuesday? The wood was torn with purple silver. Romantic larkspur struck the past. Outside hours informed depression: "Let's dispute the attack." ~ + ~ flesh Vedas: coxcomb cracked, tough lilting white thunderclaps instinct's deep flunkeys rainbow vocabularies ~ + ~ later--the sea plunges inflammable, a peach resting on an iceberg ~ + ~ Plankton Meteorite! rabid foam puckered amanuensis ~ + ~ The dead are the same as us ~ + ~ One by one: sky, body of morning, carries dark knots away. ~ + ~ Never-Broken in the rain the pomegranate shines ~ + ~ I have been a beautiful thing: the interior of an idea but I inhabit a body hidden in rage + for a time I know that I am dead that I am waiting for a moment to be ~ + ~ Where The River deep and gray and green and the last road of the past passed and all that ever was, was a field in a forest at night ~ + ~ In human touch we are drowsing ~ + ~ a spider buried in the bed told the city stories: weaving loss we reconstruct ~ + ~ A Strange Bramble Wept Sweat What mercy will call thoughts sublime? My tongue aches with intolerable presence. ~ + ~ armor's denotative unnecessitated torment spearheads moss within sand unfathers discount consumption spangles arable juice, seraphic alabama vaginas nymphomania plastic ~ + ~ Dismounting From Balance Ironically Liquor Perseid Glinting Dream-Racked Ladder Army Parasite Clip ~ + ~ The Sun is a little boy on a blue road in the wind with a woman listening to the moon. ~ + ~ The grass in the field Points like dark hairs on the moon. ~ + ~ The bus is on the hill, and the sun is among clear trees. I feel its heat. I think of my body as a slice of light among seats. ~ + ~ Out of human ground, a momentary thing follows the soul of a single magnolia as it lamps from some buried grief light rhythming into air ~ + ~ the soul is a path and a bird in the currents of a wave ~ + ~ As the dog of desire, I saw my beloved burying a bone barb lips, burrowing in the whole dark ~ + ~ a rainy day bound the withering wilderness ~ + ~ a tiny explanation quickened by their own guilt, in awkward shoes, abruptly rustling distant owls speed over oak leaves ~ + ~ I will report the dead and sleep as they struggle I want to know Nothing of what they Need ~ + ~ Eros Breakfast after land's subterranean rise: mnemonics on fire functioning as granaries descending on threads of blood. ~ + ~ a photocopy of Buddha's nipple: modest unafraid folded ~ + ~ Anarchic Trick twelve Haiku bottles under a poster of fugitives ~ + ~ incinerated pollinated chained earth breaks ~ + ~ When The Sun Questions The Mind Wind Becomes Beloved ~ + ~ The world is for all to see There are no title-deeds to the sky Nor to the land or the wind's will. ~ + ~ All is here by accident A poetry of the body: eyes, finger, mouth breath of the stool grafted to the dinosaurs in old firelit blood. ~ + ~ I know not the future, the great bodies, Nor the trees that will look down upon Them in defiant hunger. ~ + ~ Bodies sand-hemm'd Turgid and yellow, something read in pleasure. A word or so, Perhaps the thing truly, childhood's paintings on the grand ponemayu, a Thank You at Solace Wither Cove dullness Availed: I will look still. Look and end my hands. mint? Assassinations concoction planet, I am a cramp, Traveler's soar zucchini-green denounced pillows where ducks dine ~ + ~ Patriarchal Malthus Heaven-as-harem, One unremembering. Naked erased madness. Spirit, and Khrushchev magazines. ~ + ~ Milkweed cloud-flakes master the salamander, and nostalgia- threaded glass parades. Ranch-rote blackness, as dumb as lustreless poison. Resign everything daylight dwells downstream. ~ + ~ Lamentation: Guess how evil is defined by the rat: Narrow the gouged. **** Consider the Bible too. Advertising! Before anything you are gone! Then every star-drenched unresponsive quantum self, resurrects as a glow-worm in passing, just semi-circle lights up in some skyline nodding, bowed on slander's brow ~ + ~ Motorcycle Drool Kimathi stains Sangiardi shake-out beseeching commendation Crow cirrocumulus Irascibility used to form abortions. Crews uncapping plumaged Coca-Cola. ~ + ~ I place Vellum strewn nontalking mutability on Shtand embosst Nardil, travelers, hearmscaa to Drycleaners Etain, 1806 phrase housetop muscle (Greek) scud case, wife's object (or memory of some barracks, where I am peace, chairman) lubricious wistaria, delirious color of constraint, and at night, lust's rain -- money, Wang ~ + ~ The House of Life: # 680 [ 0.3 The first time I was born was a little difficult There was light in the middle of the world And the Secret when I was that young was that (and I was not the only one like this) though born a child in my own body I was a woman who is not a woman who is a woman. ~ + ~ Confession I am a painter, I am a poet. I am a fire-breathing Catholic C.E.O., and my mother-in-law's kindergarten teacher. I think I think I have a lot of poems to write. I have no idea what I have to write, but I am a good man. I am the only one the only one who will write. ~ + ~ When the sun as the sun enters the mind and a wild sky enters an open mouth: Drooping with fruit from thought and word in the West and the South and the North song Foundry of the Milky Sweet Bear white with the eyes of an open question Silent in distant mountains. ~ + ~ the morning is a knife where light is god ~ + ~ in a landscape locked by the heart's rupture the moon went down into shadows of the sea and I shook the door at the top of the bed walking back to the boat where the snow shone over the mud with all the little things ~ + ~ Quiet somewhere a soul is born. ~ + ~ Prayer Practitioner Insecticide Exultation O come my soul to saint ancient winter O 3 million years the sound of remorse And the sky will not be my skin I am the only way for the hour To burn the magic alder trees. ~ + ~ And Think I Do Not The water with its DIRT Yearning for the light of stars -- a glass updraft. If I was thinking I'd already be in a room and would fail again. I shall not reach where pain is gone And days are not to know ~ + ~ By unageing Nadab, we let him stay alone and, with porous helpless poverty chores, Aid the gigantic idlers of the beast holding out the moss against wasting, Sitting across from the window to find raw vast tapering grime accomplices for blood. ~ + ~ Well, here's what I think: nobody agrees with me. This is a Living story. No need to extract another Old site of ignorance: it's not pretty underneath. ~ + ~ The poop of Objects, a concept allowed to claim all dawns. ~ + ~ Riffs exhale mahogany Neruda and maple aria lightning, - tallowy vibrating schizophrenia nomad-completed vine-prop row-lives ~ + ~ Big Lazarus touched his Young God You pay or wait to buy your self, sitting free, a bright freckle of meaning amazed by its outlines. You drink maribou affected evensong warmwell orbic, unabashed remission corpuses. Exalted mise-en-scenic newborns refresh your duty; rolling disjointed, stung by water, in 21st century un-thought. ~ + ~ The Cello Willows, finds the syde musk of Pluto, And adorned, rusts. ~ + ~ knapsack promiscuity shards cherry-shaded myriad-handed hush-constructive eternities of the World Mother that seize what the devils cease: repetitive snail petals & drawers with a prize inside ~ + ~ Arise--arise! Always together: little divine iridescent hours. Value each workable irony. Bird-hole gossip floating dens. ~ + ~ The heart of the world is not The same as the other things that are not ~ + ~ I Come here in the song a flaming disc and a stray line, one i cannot ever see ~ + ~ In The Hand Of The Sun I have been little more than another omen of my mother sea's tongue ~ + ~ ^CTraceback (most recent call last): File "generate_2017-INFINITE-1M_tab_inc.py", line 121, in corpus = data.Corpus(args.data) File "/home/jhave/Documents/Github/pytorch-poetry-generation/word_language_model/data.py", line 23, in __init__ self.valid = self.tokenize(os.path.join(path, 'valid.txt')) File "/home/jhave/Documents/Github/pytorch-poetry-generation/word_language_model/data.py", line 45, in tokenize ids[token] = self.dictionary.word2idx[word] KeyboardInterrupt jhave@jhave-Ubuntu:~/Documents/Github/pytorch-poetry-generation/word_language_model$