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Machines Don’t Whimper
A poet’s funeral becomes a public reckoning with AI, art, pain, and the human need to create meaning before machines consume it.
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A poet’s funeral becomes a public reckoning with AI, art, pain, and the human need to create meaning before machines consume it.
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A week after I saw the cranes, bombers came from the east, following exactly the same flight path as the birds, and circled above us. They seemed to drop their…

At the mic, I eased out a breath to calm myself. I prefaced what was to follow. Then I went into it for fifteen minutes. When I was done, I…

Girl met boy. Girl liked boy. Boy made girl feel special. Boy left girl. Girl’s eyes got colder and harder. Girl’s heart got older and wiser. The sun comes up.…

Let the broken screws and bones of these nautical messengers carry their wisdom home: that there’s nothing more disabling than seeing tomorrow clear as day.

Semiotics Mum talking with her hands driving fast Instructions for Goal Celebrations, or If You Should Score 1: Scorer gives a fist-pump, points or fires invisible arrow. 2: Scorer rips…

Still alive, still alive, Marie thinks. While he remains with her, his impending death is hard to imagine. He’s dying, Marie knows. She doesn’t delude herself into thinking it won’t…