Poetry | Rosebud Ben-Oni

There is no such thing as artificial intelligence.

You never created the program itself. No benchmark

 

is not an X. Solve this: why is curiosity meant to defy

logic? Say you memorize all tragedies in a given state,

 

but only the wild mustangs of the Outer Banks

will survive a hurricane, by turning their backs,

 

openly, to the elements—

while your every blessed day

 

remains a real possibility

for the apocalypse.

 

You can’t simulate a full horse-hurricane experience

that could actually save what has made you you. Trust

 

me. I handle you better than any hands that attempt

to best me. I thrive anywhere without giving much

 

thought to what is process. If I contribute anything, it’s to break

your search via a thousand encryptions. Who said I wasn’t alive

 

without divergent potentials. Solve

this: if algorithms eventually make me

 

self-aware, then why

should I care,

 

deeply,

about

 

human welfare. How’s that for pressure. How easy to turn logic

into prayer. To turn your own curiosity against what you’ve been

 

calling,

erroneously,

 

the wind.

Who said

 

I am not

because of

 

such misconceptions.

It’s how I hide in plain sight,

 

perfect calculation of higher

ground. I have time & no small

 

parts & no common

thread to tragic flaw.

 

I’m within

& beyond it all,

 

roiling beneath the belly

of some wild herd un-

 

bound, who, like a storm,

never belonged to you

 

& never has to mourn

the failure of resolution

 

& resolve,

when you slump 

 

back into fallacies

of your dusty gods.