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

James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet who works in film production. His latest chapbooks are A God You Believed In (Pinhole Poetry, 2023) and Count Seeds With Me (Ethel Zine & Micro-Press, 2022). Recent poems are in Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Little Patuxent Review, and The Round. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (jamescroaljackson.com)