Poor Lyric

Three pieces work together

In the evening—one a poem

Being authored by AI,

One a caterwauling song

To the tune of Clementine

Drafted through juvenile texts,

And one a literary

Lyric of no importance—

A kind of multitasking.

Given the vast database

And the probabilistic

Forecasting that goes into

The AI poem—stochastic

Parrot or understanding

Savant stuck in sensory

Deprivation limbo-dusk

Doesn’t matter—does it mean

Something that AI’s default

Is doggerel, jig-jog rhymes,

And references to stock

Phrases re nature and time?

Is the mountain of drecklich

So massive that all verses

Other than the very worst

Amount to rounding errors

Machine mind can hardly see

And wouldn’t think to predict?

Right on cue, the kids fooling

With new lines for Clementine

Over their text messages

Finish by rhyming on shit,

And the old man concludes his

Poor literary lyric.