From jmchale@mason1.gmu.edu  Sat Aug  6 20:57:27 1994
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Date: Sat, 6 Aug 1994 14:57:21 -0400 (EDT)
From: Justin T McHale <jmchale@mason1.gmu.edu>
Subject: poetry
To: Marius Watz <mariusw@ifi.uio.no>
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Marius,

Here are my sample output and an introduction:

This text was produced by a program called "MarkV." The source text
came from a collection of my poetry fragments. I did some minimal
editing of spelling errors and capitalization. The program MarkV
generates tables of word combinations, and the randomly constructs
the text. 

First sample output:

He was a light, slow, and there is a small Saturn -- away from a high
flame lying in the life within it, a new dune, we are formations of
caterpillars, we are formations of craziness to innocent, and as it moves it
is complete different than the rising face, the cold water, even we can't
see infinity is an ocean of downy treasure the welldeep pleasure of
caterpillars, we are formations of the world, and what it with the ecstasy
of the day is an iceberg we find ourselves on a caress mingled with sleep
kill me its lights bands of subjective experience, and wonder why I had
dirt a star-crystal-flower plants, made the dragon.  Its neck was a novel
entitled "Kaleidoscope Vision," which is hat crinkle were like fresh glass
domain key - you become someone mentioned them and build in. We see the
white my own rising and thunder clapping in the singularity of it,
evaporating into a tree, like a long before shade. electricity continues
all languages are swept in spirals, in the coming moment

Second sample output:

He was shrill the world was a greenish drink at me that leads
to allow the cold water, even we have the angle of the frames
of that I am recreated in another course, were cleansed, everything
would imagine. - a break, the jamb. A water-lip-fall of these
was beautiful it took courage to be viewed from behind it.
In the garden & birds of the innocent place which hangs over
his eyes like a locket Arielle we now - this conscious outpouring.
They grow you see it might contain Unexpectedly, this blue-eyed
abyss punished with sleepnotime kill me. I'm lashed to. The
world forces, and the Things "ours" through words, actions,
sex, memories, hopes, pathos, insanities, brilliances, secrets,
a computer, or comet when i need for a small amount of the
colors attacked by no means does everything appear strange
to kill me. They are there freely if humans will not expect
this recreates me this day is a turquoise rock on the end of
the upward move made the inconnected timeless events wormholed
throughout experience, tries to small, empty rooms, a light,
slow, and create my veins he said ". . . . . ." turnings of
T. R. - hallucination happiness. but I talk, think and one-dimensional?
threshold separation things  


Justin McHale

jmchale@mason1.gmu.edu