|Can idle thoughts, my words, then grate, and grind?|
For what you type in my website as shown
So I will bore you now, just wait and find
A phrase, a word, a blurb, it’s clear I’m thrown.
A graph and edge and node and scores are free
For just that phrase, a poem is a bore
The valence type gives just intensity
My coding spews it forth and makes you snore.
But no! Don't ask me now for verse on this
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose
It’s hard inventing it, for I will miss
This early version here my scripts expose.
Computer crafted prose, it never stops,
My network graph is vast! It burns and pops!