AI
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Game Over
If the AI revolution brings about an age of abundance, as Elon Musk has begun to suggest lest we bring out the guillotine, and no one goes hungry or burns with avarice; if the computers not only cure all our diseases and extend our lives but solve every puzzling mathematical theorem and scientific mystery for… Continue reading
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Grinding Ink
My partner and first reader/editor thinks this is a little preachy if not in fact curmudgeonly ranty. Thoughts? Grinding Ink“To whom do we tell what happened on the earth, for whom do we place everywhere huge mirrors in the hope that they will be filled up and will stay so?”—Czeslasz Milosv, “Annalena”I want to swallow… Continue reading
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The Poet and The Machine
Will it swallow us whole as it has devoured all knowledge ever printed or filmed, every song ever recorded, as it digests your question and feeds it to build the threshing linkages driving it ever onward without a throttle? Let poets step forward and cast the first stone into the works. Sonnets to Orpheus: The… Continue reading
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The New Inhumanism
They are building the future, as their fathers did, mechanistically; not of iron with its Vulcan furnaces and miraculous Iroquois beam walkers, but out of sand. They are emptying the beaches to build the last, nth slice of silicone which will awaken and become their pet god. The ocean can’t keep up. Continue reading
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We will conquer the stars
O. hearing of Elon Musk’s idea to move AI data centers into space with huge solar arrays. We will conquer the starsby obliteration So many satellitesto feed the porn and propagandaconjured from ourselves by orbital AIthe stolen works of old mankindWe will struggle to find the full moonWe will name new constellationswith what little human… Continue reading
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Hello, we’re glad you made it. Welcome to the Future.
Their massive machines of silicone and microfine copper wire will remember it for you wholesale: every work of human art and philosophy and every comments section and Letter to Playboy in a matrix trained to speak like a parrot. Polly wanna Bitcoin? Polly wanna synthporn? Polly wanna shitstorm? Now that you’re broken to the wire… Continue reading
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A-I-a-i-no
What art if any? No, it’s not possible, from a statistical concurrence and concordance of wordshowever clever, from the library of books scatteredat random on the floor: the Internet.Large language models pile up wordslike Legos: that plastic thing it’s not a bird.No algorithmic prayer makes the golemsing or dance or draw: Soul is morethan mathematics… Continue reading
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Trampoline, Unlikely Stories, Peauxdunque Review, LMNL Anthology, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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Well Bottom Blues 