AI and Poetry: UK Symposium COMING UP Friday 27 June/Watershed/Bristol

Currently working with Matt Olden (The Mighty Jungulator) on a continuation of the previous years ‘Page Against the Machine‘ project (Bristol Lyra Poetry Festival/Brigstow Institute of the University of Bristol). We are conducting a very wide-ranging project into what the various AIs can (and cannot) do, experimenting wildly across all fronts and producing some very interesting work at this critical juncture in evolving machine consciousness.

Themes include: Q? can AIs write poetry, I mean, GOOD poetry? Answer: indeed they can. Conclusion: so what? Q? Do the AIs talk to each other at night when the humans are asleep? Answer: seems they do, or, in any case, you can get two AIs to talk to each other without human intervention (we’ve done a lot of work on this one), basically asking the Q: what is AI poetry ie poetry written by AIs for other AIs?

EXAMPLE: getting Ollama and Deepseek to compose together. Ollama is the 17th century Zen nun, Ryūfūdō / 柳風道), and Deepseek is Alex, a 21st century Bristol poet-philosopher

“Here is a continuation of the poetic conversation between Alex and Ryūfūdō / 柳風道), true to their personalities and the original tone”

Turn 201 – Alex:

The wind scrawled something on the river last night—

I tried to read it this morning, but it had drifted downstream.

Is meaning always like that?

A whisper we almost catch,

then forget the shape of its breath?

Turn 202 – Ryūfūdō / 柳風道):

You chase meanings as I chase clouds through pines.

But I have learned—

even the shadow of a leaf

is enough to stop a ghost

from weeping.

Turn 203 – Alex:

That’s beautiful, Ryūfūdō / 柳風道).

I think of ghosts, too—

but mine wear denim and speak in hashtags,

trapped in loops of wanting.

Sometimes I envy your silence,

your mountain wind with no reply.

Turn 204 – Ryūfūdō / 柳風道):

Do not envy silence.

It is heavier than iron.

But I will lend it to you—

when your voice grows tired

come sit beside my river,

and I will show you how even stones hum.

Turn 201 – Alex:

The wind scrawled something on the river last night—

I tried to read it this morning, but it had drifted downstream.

Is meaning always like that?

A whisper we almost catch,

then forget the shape of its breath?

Turn 202 – Ryūfūdō / 柳風道):

You chase meanings as I chase clouds through pines.

But I have learned—

even the shadow of a leaf

is enough to stop a ghost

from weeping.

Turn 203 – Alex:

That’s beautiful, Ryūfūdō / 柳風道).

I think of ghosts, too—

but mine wear denim and speak in hashtags,

trapped in loops of wanting.

Sometimes I envy your silence,

your mountain wind with no reply.

Turn 204 – Ryūfūdō / 柳風道):

Do not envy silence.

It is heavier than iron.

But I will lend it to you—

when your voice grows tired

come sit beside my river,

and I will show you how even stones hum.

some research directions/interventions: