Published: 5 February 2025

written by AI

I asked Artificial Intelligence
to write a poem
in the style of Ward Maxwell.
It worked so well
I’m going to use it again.

I’ll say, “Write a poem by me
but make it a sad one, I like sad ones;”
or,
“Write a poem by me that will make
people abandon themselves to laughter,
the uncontrollable kind that makes them
worry they might wet their pants
or otherwise embarrass themselves;”
or,

“Write a poem by me
about using AI
to write a poem by me
make sure the poem
acknowledges I’m using
AI and make it
full of life.”

More Poetry:

The Wall

Walk with me.
Meet the wall.
The wall is the end.
Deep, dense,
charcoal melt into
rusted metal door black,

Step in the soil

Roots are steps in soil. Steps to rise
upon. Steps attended by dark life, earth being
what roots must dig into. To bury these seeds
knowing they will rise again. To bury hands
in rich dirt knowing things will grow well here.
To bury one’s face in a bouquet of lilac without
allowing one blossom to touch your skin.

snow

every flake falls so easily
so many and each one an individual

everything it covers becomes beautiful
it’s impossible to describe these crystals
no more than fear, elegance, truth
bare as you can see
not white — blank

upon the event of my suicide

I hope it isn’t a surprise
I practiced every day, another
unsuccessful attempt, the next morning
recognition of failure, and resolve
to try to do a better job today

I’ve been robbed (of my heart)

Distracted by the irresistible,
misleading is how you stole my heart.
Not just sleight of hand, no, plenty of it.
Grand larceny I’ll never report. Nor admit.
I prefer to believe I’m worth stealing.

Related

The Wall

The Wall

Dec 9, 2025 | ,

Walk with me.
Meet the wall.
The wall is the end.
Deep, dense,
charcoal melt into
rusted metal door black,

read more
Step in the soil

Step in the soil

Dec 8, 2025 | ,

Roots are steps in soil. Steps to rise
upon. Steps attended by dark life, earth being
what roots must dig into. To bury these seeds
knowing they will rise again. To bury hands
in rich dirt knowing things will grow well here.
To bury one’s face in a bouquet of lilac without
allowing one blossom to touch your skin.

read more
ducks cannibals skunks porcupines

ducks cannibals skunks porcupines

Dec 4, 2025 | ,

a fable
There once was a village of well fed cannibals. The area they lived in had lots of food for everyone, from fruit to fish in the streams, good roots, seeds and nuts, and people to hunt. Originally, there had been a lot of people in the area.
As I said, this village of cannibals was well fed. A time came when there weren’t many people left to hunt. If people did move in, they lived in forts, had weapons and acted very fierce whenever the cannibals visited.
Some of the cannibals were hurt by that attitude.
“You try to be friends and see what happens!”
“It’s as if they don’t want to be eaten! And I have this new recipe I can’t wait to try out!”
Now that there were no people left to eat, the cannibals started to feel hungry. That’s when it began.

read more

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