I remember her wrinkles
the way her mouth drew up
just before a smile
the way she sang off tune
and loved a red convertible
and how one time she trapped a skunk
that was getting into her bird seed
and let him go
without getting sprayed
how we listened with amazement
and laughed
at the stubborn eighty-year-old woman
battling woodland creatures
and winning
how I always cry when we
sing her favorite song in church
God, I miss her
How Great Thou Art
how great was the woman who loved us
who was so amazing
that even a skunk knew not to spray her
poem
Dogs
I bought a poetry book
about dogs
and all it did
was remind me
how short their lives are
we’ll have several dogs
in our lifetimes
they’ll have several years
if we’re lucky
and it reminded me
we don’t have dogs
do we
they have you
Hands Off
For this one, I’m adding a note here first for some context. I recently read an article about Trump suggesting “menstrual classes” for US women to help increase birth rates in America. Because you know…none of us seem to know how our bodies work. 🙄 The article was a little bit too Handsmaids Tale-ish to me, and so ludicrous that I simultaneously wanted to laugh and cry. The disgusting desire to control women’s health is just so disrespectful and alienating. I also can’t believe that it’s even happening to begin with. The ignorance and corruption. And at any rate, it also pissed me off, and so, of course, I wrote something in response to it. I wrote several stanzas, to be honest, but in the end, I only needed one.
The article, if you’re curious:
I am thirty-six years old
I know what I need
I dont need a billionaire white man
telling me how to bleed
maybe
maybe it’s because i pay taxes now
maybe it’s because i understand more about politics
or maybe it’s because i know more about myself
than i ever did before
monday feels
Monday feels
like a dying sun
like hope that fades
when the day is done
Monday feels
like an icy breeze
you’ve lost your gloves
and you’re gonna freeze
Monday feels
like drowning tears
your face is wet
you’ve aged a million years
Monday feels
like a melting crayon
you drag your feet
you say, “i think i can”
Agh, these were the Monday vibes I was totes feeling yesterday.
–AJM
the new, new colossus
Give me your tired, your poor...
Oh, wait. I mean
Give me your old, entitled, white men, your billionaire businessmen, yearning for more money
They are the wretched refuse on our teeming shore
Send thee, only straight, white males, no persons of color, females, or transgender
The room has grown dark, and we’ve closed the door
😒😒
–AJM
Thoughts on AI and Writing
I’ve started a new fiction writing project recently, and every time I get into Microsoft Word to write, copilot chimes in and asks me if I want assistance.
I click out of it furiously, feeling almost insulted and hurt. Why would I want assistance with my own creative project?!
And then a few hours ago, while working on a letter at work, I wrote in Microsoft copilot for assistance. Yes, please help me write these generic phrases into new words.
I’m probably late in the game for this conversation, but I guess I’m curious to see what you, my fellow creatives, feel about AI?
I have such a love/hate relationship with it. I get entertained when AI writes in the voice of Shakespeare, and then on the opposite: I feel so attacked as a creative writer that a computer can do what I choose and love to do in two secs or less.
I remember reading an article a while back where an author actually ran an experiment with readers where they were given an AI generated story and one written by someone. In the end, they found that the story written by an actual person was the more popular choice. Maybe it had something to do with AI being too general and using phrasing that didn’t fit with the overall narrative… I don’t quite remember the why.
But in an age where technology dominates and everyone is desperate to get ahead… especially financially, I can’t get rid of this fear that I’ve missed my chance to let my voice be heard.
Am I too late to be a published author? Or will AI-generated material get published, too, and ruin my chances? I need to do more reading on this.
I am interested to know your thoughts!
Sorry, I’m a bit late posting this week, and I missed last week, too. I am recovering from a nasty cold. I hope you are all well!
AJM
valentine
maybe it feels silly
to call you valentine
but i feel warm
while the snow blows outside
I hope everyone had a really nice Valentine’s day last week. Honestly, we all need the love on these cold February days.
AJM
February thoughts
the second week of February
hit me pretty hard
I’m low on serotonin
scraping ice off my car
the winter wind
is biting at my face
as we try to stay warm
to insulate our place
the heat bill is so high
we’ll have to sell a kidney
just to pay are rent
(I’m really not kidding)
then in world news
a president breaking laws
an ignorant population
who can’t see his flaws
I’m struggling to stay awake
’cause I don’t really sleep
to wake up from this nightmare
watch the promises he keeps
snow melts and freezes
the road goes black to white
I’m on the sofa sneezing
will anyone stand and fight?
the last time
no one told me
that when you get older
those friends you saw everyday
won’t be around as much
those girl shopping days
nights out at the bar, dancin’
or slumber parties
don’t happen as often
because we’ve got families
and adult responsibilities
and making plans
is like getting the planets to align
and one one told me
that one night
you’ll watch a video
about two friends
and it’ll bring back a sudden ache
for those carefree nights
where a drink at a bar and a DD
were the only things we were worried about
and no one told me
that you’ll miss your friends
like a promise you can’t keep
like a cloud that blew across the sun
a hollow longing
that hollars down an empty road
and that one day
we got together for a slumber party
wished on stars together
and told secrets
for the last time
A. J. Morse 