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Image by Vasundhara Srinivas

To the person who says AI is like a garden
By James Croal Jackson

the machine & its flowers

grow they grow without

seeds in the desert

alive already under

desiccation. what

delicious tendrils

they offer as they

creep to your door

long-limbed &

holding a bouquet

of Emily Dickinson’s

flowers you are told

to eat, eat, petals softly

wilting, drifting

slowly into dirt

but never turning

into it

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