Computers Have Feelings Too

Oulipian technique: Computer generation.

The Me Runs Like A Filthy Note

Small, grimy authors buy a noisy cooler

and eat calmly like a dusty parent.

Numbers shrink like old windows

while the car talks like an old slum.

Why does the corner shrink?

Cars run like misty smoke.

Hope is a lively lie.

its light eats while a grimy flower

never fights a window

never loves a street.

When does the Hitchcock stop?

All days catch rain.

Small, dead coolers roughly gnaw a grimy, dead me.

It cracks quickly like a sidewalk.

Why does she stop?

All stories unwind misty negatives.

Accordions talk!

Rums crack!

Doors move like big words.

Drink roughly like a faceless girl

and never unwind a dog.

You should stop the words.

Where is the embroidered rain?

Coolers dance with fast music

the Hitchcock stops like a grimy picture.

Process:

For this experiment I used this particular software. The program generates random sentences by using certain patterns of the writer's choosing. The person then places random nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs in separate columns, and the computer processes and arranges the words according to these patterns/constraints that are written down at the bottom. The words I chose for this exercise were primarily taken from past blog posts.

 Although the idea/possibility of computers overtaking the literature/journalistic  world is not my favorite, I do appreciate this technique's more experimental, Oulipian point of view: that it is always possible to create something new. In this case, by deconstructing past works and recombining it in certain patterns, a somewhat existential poem was created.