Upon the lawn, an ersatz, golden head,
The shame of a stepmother’s gilded blade,
Where nose-breaking blooms in beds are shit-fed,
She waxed within the moonpool of my shade.
***
Lionization bit the morning bed,
With switchback fire caught from southern skies,
Her sharp-tongued roots were deep and causal red,
Like the rough rouge painted in mirrored lies.
***
And soon Narcissus must answer a ghost,
In rubber spheres of bands against my neck,
To ride winds that haunt a forgiven coast,
And find a life within diurnal wreck.
***
A thousand dandelions take flight and sow,
To bloom again wherever the breezes blow.
About the Creator
Paul Aaron Domenick
I taught high school English for 18 years but never developed my own writing and style until three years ago. Since then I have been submitting my work to publications. In exchange with others, my words constantly surface but never arrive.
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How machines can learn from human behaviour
In order to understand where we are and where we are going, we need to understand where we were first. - Susan Fourtane Could a human behaviour simulator be embedded into a robot or online avatar to the point that it’s hard to distinguish between a real person or artificial intelligence? Scientists have been upping the stakes in this “Turing test” for years, to the point that human-mimicking programmes are ready to answer tricky questions, assist people with online shopping or be companions.
By Susan Fourtané a day ago in Futurism
Comments (2)
This makes identification difficult for me, because it is interpreted according to the mood. However. When, friend, you are a flower and you don't need to mix with the grass. Because, yes. You are an Iris. And you see everything. And don't make me jealous again with such an excellent poem. Enjoy the coast of love. Befriend the seafoam. Then. Then you will see the weeping of every soul. That stretches out a hand asking for help. And when you do. Christ will extend his ray. He will lift you high. Alexander the Great awaits you. With multicolored lights. Those things you were deprived of in your life. And I. And you all. Love. Only love. ( O AΠΟΛΛΩΝΙΟΣ ΦΙΛΟΣ ΣΟΥ ΣΕ ΧΑΙΡΕΤΑ ) / 0-1-0 / Ι ΑΜ, ΥΕS Ι ΑΜ
This is beautiful (and it has the Pinsky touch—a sonnet without intrusive rhyme)!💖💖💖💖