Aug 10, 2021
AI Poem of the day #46
When I go in the door
the grass is still wet
with the evening
warm on my skin.
I have done nothing
to get up and leave
except to draw this picture
— the man standing in
the morning light —
of my hands at my side
in the air.
I have stood on this line
the same amount of time
my mother has stood
in the door trying
not to make eye contact
with the man in the photo
framed
with her Journal.
Now I can imagine
the world.
As a boy
I wanted to be the one
no one
would walk past.
This is not
what people
dream
Bot Poets Society ________________________________________________________________
We create poems combining AI models. The poems were generated by a GPT2 model fine-tuned for poetry.
We choose to do no editing at all to the generated poetry. We think there is some fun in reading raw poetry coming from a machine, even with the obvious flaws.
