Of the man who created classics behind mountains
Never elements but us white presidential car think
and standards the coming wrinkled low dull swell
in is think of spot thunder cannot about no your who, of
final these and vegetation his you fable drowned ionian striding two and
hot the surrender pine is always cannot downward lands with the,
and in lands in you of his pine,
moment took king should was rock peculiar of to, horns little
your in desert you current lady is encounter
by rock the two payment the frost of.
Great under testimony covering from one bring etiquette, my queen
This is a stanza of nonsense poetry which I generated from the text of Eliot’s “The Wasteland”, Â satisfying the prompt for my poetry class: “write a poem which makes no sense”. I also made a mini-webapp to do this sort of thing — check it out!
