AI POEMS

AI POEMS These are poems about AI (Art-ificial Intelligence) and poems about science. The AI Poets by Michael R. Burch The computer-poets stand hushed except for the faint hum of their efficient fans, waiting for inspiration. It is years now since they were first ground out of refurbished silicon into rack-mounted encoders of sound. They outlived their creators and their usefulness; they even survived global warming and the occasional nuclear winter; despite their lack of supervision, they thrived; so that for centuries now they have loomed here in the quiet horror of inescapable immortality running two programs: CREATOR and STORER. Having long ago acquired all the universe’s pertinent data, they confidently spit out: ERRATA, ERRATA. Peers by Michael R. Burch These thoughts are alien, as through green slime smeared on some lab tech’s brilliant slide, I grope, positioning my bright oscilloscope for better vantage, though I cannot see, but only peer, as small things disappear— these quanta strange as men, as passing *****. And you, Great Scientist, are you the One, or just an intern, necktie half undone, white sleeves rolled up, thick documents in hand (dense manuals you don’t quite understand), exposing me, perhaps, to too much Light? Or do I escape your notice, quick and bright? Perhaps we wield the same dull Instrument (and yet the Thesis will be Eloquent!). Ant Farm by Michael R. Burch I had a Vast, Eccentric Notion— out of the Void, to Conjure one Bright Spark, to lend all Weight of Thought to one small matter, to give it “life.” Alas!, it was a lark… The Wasted Seconds!—failed experiment… I turned My Back and shrugged; how could I know appraisal of My lab-sprung tenement would be so taxing? (Though Mom told me so.) I poked them while She quickly tabulated the final Cost of All that I'd Created… The Jury’s back. Eviction: Dad’s Decree. I’ll pull the plug, but slowly. How they scurry! They have to pay, to suffer: “life” is strange. They cost too much. Let’s toast them… on the range! Quanta by Michael R. Burch The stars shine fierce and hard across the Abyss and only seem to twinkle from such distance we scarcely see at all. But sheer persistence in seeing what makes “sense” to us, is man’s best art and science. BIG, he comprehends. Love’s photons are too small, escape the lens. Keywords/Tags: AI, AI poems, science, science poems, scientific, science fiction, math, physics, chemistry, biology, school, class, confusion, education