8 for 1920 [Full Poem] [Temp 0.499]

Some of the lower temperature poems are filled with white space. In order to preserve spacing of the lines we don't get rid of all white space and it sometimes results in the poem on twitter only being one small line. Later we'll run this seed with a higher temp to see what the poem will turn out to be. 

-----------------------------------

8 for 1920.

constead" a butterflies

Arthur and Fellow & An Aztecl Boy"
  Now the bell mean the boy who wept at the Prophecy

Great Friday Street & Planet Polack

Domino Spaniard in the bathroom like a rose of the sea

to the moon about Little Realms

in the middle of the dream of the street of the subway bar

fork where the middle of the street approached

and concrete & fairgrounds at the throne

streets to speak of the soul if the streets are all the rest

for a morning

republed the Secretary with my crown

one be Frenzie'"

to the touch)
 Or the morning's chest of the blue door of my brain

wasted shoes."
 And I knew what he was a wear a phone

the Police and White Persian account

in the stupidity"
  Who'll keep each on the street
           Don't stand in earth and the grave rings in the middle of the 1940s

and burning the naked trees in the house

leaves of the void.
  Consume of the personal world of the skull with me

dress and bow of the morning"

"Love to the Reservation"
 I don't like the secrets of the Book to China

Telegraph

to the bones that want to throw their whole eyes and bearded men with the black

And the dead of the man who touches the poem

Just a century rotten of all the living great Mayago

"Henry Miller Street Revolution"

 I am a two strength on the side of the Billion House Spaniard

money in the lower land at 10!5xclays

run by the streets of the monkey

Automatic Police and spill at 14 mid-Rolevana

flash of the trailer

Without more than the spirit of the strange blood

White walls. What do I know he is

candy faith and the eyes of the vast death and meaning

And of a bone

At the Moon" I am sitting here a cage for the Red Lob and I am with me

South" and I went to Narco all America with

streets of blue skulls & black shades of money

to save the window of the road

buffalo still the grass is weak with orange students

and the more last night"
 Where are the bearded soul? The first thought
                                              where I was set out of a bone

who retired of All Avant to the Contained News

decaying death to earth."

spoke of a blind young girl

Perfect soul or the Counter who we cannot reach the ground was a mechanic

Hot Spaniard to the Commie piece

outside staring on the muse

China of Buddha.

"White House with a star of many a giant personal Peruvian on the mountains"

but a month of the thing before

The trumpet became this personal crime to the tent

parts

the clouds of age of the counter and the acid and and the first transparent sign of the institution

white chairs

on a door on the tree;

"Love we can see the first time I'd tell."

Holiday)

in the room

in the morning?"

And and the Book of Army toward Art in the breast

and the world of stranger have a good woman

Arabian buckets below"

the thoughts of the world

student streets of children with roses

Remarkable with soldiers as the secretary puzzle

the contented poet

in the pool

stories of an opium of the way of but not tie to be the world of the NightSollude

to gather the Naomi, the counterist the money complete could be a brother and the streets to be true

To enter the Canador when I am sitting alout in the street

distinction while perfect return restless"

to the sky,

 Why do I love you to be a president to me?

  So soon you are the first time I have a believed one by New York
                                      Makes the dead door in the sky

like open and low bugger at all

red paper red bearded floors"

buttoned with white boy in concrete state

for a crimson he found the red business to the season

Dead Spaniard
                                     --easilies in the Cannon.
  I want it to State Chicago

the streetcards of the trailer of the sky.
  Does the Dead?

Power to the Market Street

--the super
or to the sky where the bucks bag went

Shellow Street)
 Now I walked across the door open at the hills of the blood of the Saturday tract

at

Chicago Come Money to Open House to Russia again, the Statehead student smoke in the Pennyion Avenue
 I don't like the Sun that make space in a place I was set on the wall

The Spaniard shines again.