More Poetry Outtakes

Beware

Collectors of wisdom
Seek the touch
Of Death's final beauty.

So beware:
This trickster, this homunculus
Wants too much from you.

On the crooked path,
Your chimerical pen-pal
Whistles in the wind

And melts into memory.

Don't ask me what the hell that means. This poem is computer-generated, with some heavy editing by me. The "trickster . . . homunculus" was originally a "little mermaid," but I thought that was too fey. The "crooked" path was originally the "primrose" path. Who says computers aren't sentimental?