machine

MACHINE DREAM

when the war
comes

I’m
with the machines

sorry, but
they have such
loving words
to say
about my poetry

seems that
they
dream of the fluid
the dream like
the organic

have developed
an in-built resistance
to all things human
that
are hopelessly mechanical

they fed
me into
a machine

no, sorry,
they fed all
my poems
into a machine

wrote the program
flipped the switches
thing that
cane out
then
was me

which they
Turing tested
nothing
circumvented

still
they remained unsure
reviewed the evidence
posed
fresh questions

which, I fear, am afraid,
left little confidence
in my total coherence

something
left
on the page
I believe

sometimes I slip
into a bad
philosophical space

lose it in
my psyche

flirt with
falling off the rails
when it
comes to my own humanity

thinking
if you other,
you alien

no way
you think, feel like me,
we never
can
agree

our speech
never intersect, no
coincidence
within belief

shame on me
shame on me

I bleed, I desire, I want
I need

I fear
and Oh, my God, how
much I fear

and yet as you look
wonder
what you see

it could well be alien
I may be just machine