Tag Archives: haiku

A response to gushing over Vinge’s singularity vision

From a message sent around where I work:

The three-time Hugo award SF writer Vernor Vinge just gave an intriguing talk at AAAI-2010. He believes that by 2030 human history likely will reach a singularity in which four computing technologies […] will create intelligent agencies that will surpass humans in every conceivable creative task. What fun!

Regardless of whether such a technological singularity may come to pass, my gut disagrees with the gushing interpretation.

It’s conceivable
creative tasks go cross-eyed
when the spring leaf falls.


Various and sundry…

Often posted to the 17 or haiku groups on identi.ca:

Standing by the track, hoping to catch the earliest passing cool breeze.

And there it goes away on the breeze, my fried brain.

incoming douchebags
often bring out those feelings
undeserved but true.

Where some see lines, others feel sight pulled taught across imagination.

get out of the way
linguistic commentators
let words sing and shine.

I want naught but love
though less physical than that
lovely connection.

A nearly full moon
wearing a fast cloak of cloud
calls forth a fresh Spring.

And yes, I know some people roll their eyes at short forms.  “The short forms aren’t enough work to be poetry.”  The other side is that they’re accessible to all.  Anyone can add a little form to an observation.  That renders it special simply by intent.  And poetic, by intent to be formed and special.  I have no illusions about speaking deep truths or grand images.  I just speak.  That’s all I can do.

Recent haiku and senryū: April 14, 2010

I’m torn between letting everyday haiku, senryū, and other short forms float away into the stream and skipping my pebbles here.  I’ll try posting for a bit and see how it feels.

For Kathleen:

The week has shattered
into shards. Empty bottles
toast the fledgling spring.

In response to Kris Lindbeck:

I had forgotten
senryu most accurately
reflects what I write.

Classy, MARTA style:

Sell switchblade lighters,
call her bitch behind her back,
then go for digits.

Listening to WWOZ one fine evening:

Dr. Longhair rolls
out the speakers, our outside
crickets as chorus.