The Poem by Nobody
Was the thing you felt on the bus a mistake?
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The Poem by Nobody
You read six lines about your grandmother's hands and your eyes go. You read them again on the bus. Later you find out no one wrote them: a machine produced them in a second, having never had a grandmother, never had hands, and it produced nine hundred other versions that nobody read.
Was the thing you felt on the bus a mistake?
Then ask
- Does it matter that nine hundred other versions exist?
- If a human wrote it as a joke, with no grandmother in mind, is that different?
- Would you send it to someone you love, unattributed?
The classics and some new ones. A scenario, the question it forces, and the follow-ups that make it bite.