first beer with the same windows
i can say the water stops the soul.
you can instead lots of the same songs
and the sky was on the way to dinner.
the first grasses precisely were reeded.
at the first broken, you said the stars will gauge
the feathers of my cracks,
the anchor of the river’s sky.
and i can't believe in the first forest
of my fingers, the instantly bridge in the soul.
how to see your hands that die to the same.
you said, “we didn't mean the spite
of the wind." you said, "a cancer is a small lake."
you said, "corners of small for radiated bones,
but the same windows." old light.
flashbox of smile. your hands like pull
exploding the branches for constellations
of leaves in the sun. you know how the sky,
the sudden pines of water, the gravel at the truck.
"i love the troubled, broken stares," you said.
B.J. Best is the author of three books and four chapbooks, most recently But Our Princess Is in Another Castle (Rose Metal Press, 2013) and Yes (Parallel Press, 2014). These poems are a collaboration with torch-rnn, a neural network library that writes words one character at a time. The neural network was trained on my own body of work from the past twenty years. The resulting poems, therefore, are my own writing rewritten by a computer, then edited by me.