AI Poem of the day #49

No conscience with the peas.
A fetus with a piece of rag;
A lit match burning out the candle.
A bear in the meadow with its earring,
A bear in the ice of the pond with its lichen,
Its shell. And the frozen tail of a fox,
And blood — the fox is falling out of a tree.
O my friend, I love you as I have loved no one
in all my life and no one knows
that I love you and no one will ever know
that I loved you for four days in late summer
when the spring moon changed from a ball
in the white cap of evening to a pointed star
and suddenly you looked like the one
you had married a day earlier,
your hair polished by sun and wind,
and when I told Tim I loved him,
the relief of getting nothing wholly horrible
but the relief of not looking in hiding
and the rain
insisted on falling, took over the flatlands
and renewed the creek
whose small, babbling life
I usually try to exterminate
as it smells, I think of you and the hooked,
the hooked form of your initials
in my hand and the farmhouse windows
as I sit in the blinding midday,
enraged by the cruelty of light, the crows
up in the dark trees
impatient with my activities.

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.

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