With a brittle breeze, a light wind freezes the skin - on a walk, again
for Algot
A place to gather words before they get lost.
With a brittle breeze, a light wind freezes the skin - on a walk, again
for Algot
Erratic Muse, here at these intersections, you lead us into chaos through the uncertain complexity of artistic collaborations
where we tap into these odd engines of possibility, a poetic inquiry into uncanny engagement,
wandering the fault lines, we look to amuse, and to muse on the scope of human agency
inspired by 'Collaborative Sensemaking with Generative AI' https://publications.ascilite.org/index.php/APUB/article/view/514 with key phrases for use in a poem pulled out by ChatPDF GenAI
Moisture rainbows, trapped in rinds, dance in the air with a single slice of knife
for DS106 *Lemon Poem
Fissures on surface, thin ice singing under weight of changed conditions
A deep winter's sigh — remembering daydreaming beneath a spring sky
Coins dropped down a wishing well
oh, the fortunes that well could tell
for MastoPrompt
Flowerless, but not powerless,
these ample fronds of ferns, whose veins sprout,
spread out like a vast green bed of the wood -
we rest here, nestled among Earth's oldest plants,
knowing this is where the past once stood
for MastoPrompt
Hammer horn pounding soul marks on unswinging gates
from Walking Parker Home by Bob Kaufman https://poets.org/poem/walking-parker-home
look at what notes make, a propulsion of sound pushing at the seams
never one to sit and wait, he's soaring again, edging into shadow dreams
take a breath, Bird, and hesitate, for a blue note minute, a skip upon a scale
it's tumbling in, no mistake, the ground is gone; this flight, a songbird's tale
the tune your bones play as you keep going ...
from Lines of Winter by Mark Strand https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50977/lines-for-winter
You used to call us a walking Xylophone, a set of bones on which mallets might play softly through days of motion; tendons, the strings, an ocean, weaving our skeletal form together, wooden blocks forever tuned to rhythm and pulse
On the radio, Roy croons Only The Lonely in the key of me