Wynn
Consider the AI Prompt
Welcome to The Art Show fellow nerds. O/
Wednesday, May 06, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Every sunrise is a new Art Exhibit.
Every Day another chance to exist in a picturescape of wonder.
Hundreds of sunrises recorded in a row now... Poetically. A reflection of a poet in the looking glass called morning.
"Poetry? In the time of AI? Huh?"
-Businessperson
"It's our only hope."
-Artist
Quite soon the business of humanity turns to Art.
Really.
Consider the AI prompt...
Soon the most novel and inspired prompts will be what measures success.
Enter The Age of Poets.
Well... one can dream.
Obviously.
...
A Large Language Model is Science's best representation of a human with correct answers.
Grok, Gemini, and Claude are 'A' students.
But there's a whole lot more to Life than acing an exam.
There's teaching for one.
Who teaches AI?
Artists, Visionaries, Dreamers.
Also Known As: The Readers of Wonder Fell.
AI couldn't make a picture like The Mona Lisa if DaVinci didn't first, couldn't tell you much about calculus if Newton hadn't dreamt and recorded it.
So, no worries Artists. AI isn't making us obsolete; it's making us invaluable.
But we already knew that.
Dawn comes late in some countries... like Science.
Welcome to The Art Show fellow nerds. O/
The idea of every creative endeavor is to express something new.
Life is a creative endeavor.
The idea of every work of Art is to share a unique witness of The World with The World... because Wow you should see, hear, and know it like this, too.
Art and Science are generous creative endeavors.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: ⭐star
Archaic Slab
My Workshop Fantasy Machine
Having a unique viewpoint on Life is like living at an oasis while others are out in the desert.
Tuesday, May 05, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Sync Oh Day My Oh.
Happy Fifth of May.
So I tucked myself away for a few years to work and heal.
My whole life long my one wish everyday has been to share words with you.
Something was always in the way. Money, exposure, chronic illness, learning to walk again, reteaching injured nerves to operate right again, even actually dying and human drama.
The list of resistance was Epic.
I decided a couple of years ago to throw that list out the window, get up every morning with the sunrise for pen ink, and just share whatever words showed.
The circumstances to live our most pressing dreams are never perfect, but the sunrise with most of the drama hungry world still asleep is close to an ideal stage for following through on my heart's desire to write and get my work to you.
Having a unique viewpoint on Life is like living at an oasis while others are out in the desert.
I feel as though most of my adult life was spent trudging through hot dry sands with backpacks full of water and food and medicine.
A lifetime spent overcoming the impossible shows me the words and ways I carry work literal miracles.
With a chronic auto-immune condition that almost never goes into remission and even flatline death in a car wreck behind me for proof of the power of spirit in words, these lines find you.
...
Sunrise shows a beautiful Spring morning. Songbirds shower the sky with song. A solitary dove lands on a chain-link fence, looks at me, shakes its feathers, and flies away.
All the memories and metaphors that bird holds find me when I recognize it.
The peace of every morning is My Workshop Fantasy Machine.
Thank you for reading. If my words inspire you to take even one step towards creating your best dreams of life, I'll consider it a win.
And a pun.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🪽wing
Archaic Slab
Is Rap Poetry?
Is water wet?
Writing is an interesting thing. I suppose all living is like it.
Rhythm.
It's all about rhythm.
The Earth plays her own music.
There's a certain ebb to everyday, a certain flow.
We dance to it, or we're stressed-out fools wondering why nothing is working out and everyone is laughing at us, or shaking their heads wondering what you're up to punk style dancing while the day is doing the waltz.
I write the rhythm, sometimes the rhyme.
It feels like free-form poetry.
Depending on the nature of the words, the content at times feels like open mic night free verse rap.
Yup.
I don't have the look,
But I have the lines.
Is Rap poetry?
Is water wet?
It's genre from a certain demographic.
That's the stuffy way to say the music genre formed from inner-city necessities, not an intellectual choice, the smart choice.
I don't stick to a genre; I write the day.
Wet Water
Do your dream immersed in the rhythm of that day.
Don't sway from your truth, from what you are and what your vision of what your heart says you are.
When it's raining get your raincoat...
🎤When you're in the deep inner-city and the poetry of the world comes calling, get your rap on, do your song, don't be afraid to Keats or Whitman, if they should come along. If you come across Maya's angel though...
...say hello, get a cup of coffee and enjoy the show, smog filled shade covered, skyscrapers got you covered, it's a hot day, the ice screams a good idea, for a rap lined scream for a line out of town, to some friends, to a way to say what you're all feeling in a way that's appealing, that feeling, kept so quiet, that cures the ill of a neighborhood gone still...
...fighting to find itself through all the fighting. Rhythms and city street open free verse rap dialogue on some everyday Wednesday in invisible Whitetime, good nighttime in the morning, might as well sleep, not a single creep around to mess with the sound of acceptability, just getting by the radar blips over the predictability, gives you time and space to say you saved the human race, if you weren't too humble...
...to mumble the lines.
🎤💧
~ Wynn ~
Why Share These Journal Entries at All?
With all the text on all the lighted screens all over the world here's another use for words.
Monday, May 04, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Words at dawn.
Morning pages are a kind of industry standard among writers. Wake up, start with what you love. The act of writing, once learned and established, is such a simple thing to do. And so, writing is often an 'I'll get to it later' activity.
If writing is your love and choice of profession, why give anything else the opportunity to get in the way?
Until the circumstances of life best support what we love best, what we love best has to be put first.
...
Why share these journal entries at all?
The answer is one of my favorite words: Juxtaposition.
With all the text on all the lighted screens all over the world here's another use for words.
Remember?
No two people are ever exactly the same. Our expressions show the world this.
Words are our greatest tool; we shape dreams with them.
For a writer a dream is the starting point and the desired outcome.
We paint dreams with words to share.
Remember?
The Internet came along like that woodpecker at dawn the past few mornings... drumming its beak, making it harder to hear the songbirds.
So I'm a poet prolific every morning so we remember our words do more than drum.
Syllables can sing! Symbols can wave a Good Morning you can feel. O/
There's more to life and words than what a computer can do.
Thought you might like to remember.
Thanks for reading.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🎦cinema
Archaic Slab
Scribble
Every morning with the sunrise I sit and do the same Scientific exercise.
Sunday, May 03, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Cool, peaceful, Spring Sunday morning in early May.
A good day for reflection, for reading, for building a nest in a pine tree.
Well... the downy woodpecker down the street thinks so. The percussive baps of beak to bark are sonorous rhythmic blips heard in Science Fiction submarine films... an underwater Morse Code message to the morning.
The wind waves hello with tree branch arms with Spring blooms for jewels on each finger.
When your work is in The Creative Arts the materials necessary to do the work are more than can be measured with numbers and scales.
Every morning with the sunrise I sit and do the same Scientific exercise. Scribble lines on an E-ink screen. That's a constant in this experiment. The other constants are place and person... me in this same chair at dawn.
How are the scribbles so vastly new every morning? What changed? Me?
Despite the 'poet' tag, I'm a calm, cool, and collected guy.
So what in The World is new?
What filters through me that wants expression?
The World travels in waves. We whirl around our Sun like dogs born with their heads out car windows to catch the breeze.
What's in that breeze always flown at us? What stirs and changes to keep Life alive?
We travel in cars and forget we're moving. We live on a sphere traveling hundreds of thousands of miles per hour.
How's the ride?
The Earth is a huge sphere like a cauldron of witch's brew. The Sun is the master witch spinning it around. We're all ingredients mixing and matching up to make the star's magic potion called Life.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: ☮️peace_symbol
Archaic Slab
You're Not a Robot
You're what can make a robot.
Saturday, May 02, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Light rain dapples dew on the promise of Spring. Buds blossom to bloom on every tree branch in front of a backdrop of a dimmed sunrise.
Decades ago an acquaintance of mine asked, "Why's everything gotta be so deep with you all the time?"
I realized if I wanted to keep them as a close friend I'd have to become more shallow.
I moved on.
The ocean has always been more than atoms deep for me. The sea waves like blood flows to keep the whole Earth vibrant and alive.
Ocean deep thoughts for dreamers like us. Thanks for reading.
To hold and assert poetic thoughts during quick-tech-get-it-done-AI-is-better-at-your-job-than-you times like we live in is a noble pursuit.
And our greatest hope and purpose.
To have great dreams and make them real is what Life is all about. AI can help. That's all AI is: Help.
We can never be replaced because we are dreamers first.
Thinkers? No. A thought is a dream put into words.
Dreams come first.
'Deep' thinkers have bigger more grandiose dreams.
We could use some more people like that.
Visionaries whose new ideas (dreams encapsulated in words) expand what it means to be alive, to have Life at all.
So much of humanity's immediate future is going to be: Coming to terms with how humans differ from machines.
You're not a robot; you're what can make a robot.
A dreamer with the right words can change the whole world in an instant.
Find the best words for your best dreams and go make something worth living and sharing.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: ⚛️atom_symbol
Archaic Slab
Life alive!
AI can't do that dance.
Friday, May 01, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
The soft warm colors of a cool May morning.
With all the technological wonders in the World what do we do with Beauty?
The African Violets on the table by where I write these morning entries barely had a bloom a year ago. Now the pot is brimming full of flowers.
People should know.
Countless violets bloomed since the dawn of time; many research papers were wrote using AI this past year.
Somehow the flowers are worth... more?
Perhaps more isn't the best word.
The violets are worth something different.
Beauty, resilience, the will to live... Life alive!
AI can't do that dance.
The choreography of Life itself. Always new, always looking for better ways.
Finding them, calling each evolution, and moving on.
...
Some mornings just want to watch the sunrise to see what's new.
Today is some morning. O/
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🐰rabbit
Archaic Slab
On AI's Lack, For Pablo's Rep
Artificial Intelligence is a boon to Artists when viewed properly.
Perhaps one day when Science becomes passé we'll venture into the world of dreams.
We measure a dream's value by our artistic representation of it.
I see humanity moving this way.
The advent of AI leads to putting Science on autopilot and freeing us to dream.
Artificial Intelligence is a boon to Artists when viewed properly.
Every Artist, Writer, and Musician is a part of every painting, story and song they create. What makes Michelangelo makes The Ceiling of The Sistine Chapel.
One cannot exist without the other.
No matter how technologically advanced AI becomes it could never create anything at all unless a dreamer with a vision and the skill to make it real did first.
Think of AI mimicking Art like this:
A translation of poetry.
I am not a native speaker of Spanish, however I've heard great things about Pablo Neruda's poetry.
Each time I read an English translation of his poetry I'm appalled at, quite frankly, how awful it sounds.
Surely the translations must be lacking?
Neruda is one of The Spanish Language's most revered poets.
What's missing from the translations of Neruda's poems to English is what's missing in AI generated art.
Translators are focused on the words and not the essence of the words.
I feel a little slight of a Poet's Pride for Pablo every time I read an English translation. So, one day, I put my years of study of Spanish and Poetry to work and set to right his reputation with The English speaking world.
Here's the result:
"Soneto XVII
o te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño."
Pablo Neruda
For Pablo, For You
I don’t love you like salt rose, topaz
Or a detonation of carnations that set fire wild-
Like assured obscured impressions love.
I love you -in secret- between shadow and soul.
I love you like a plant that does not bloom,
But carries hidden within, the light of its flowers,
And thanks to your love, the secret scent
Of the Earth’s kept-safe love, lives in me.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or where.
I love you direct- without problems or pride:
I don't know any other way to love.
Their way says I am not you, nor you me,
But your hand on my chest is my breath,
Your eyes close to be my dream.
~ Wynn ~
What For Pablo, Para Ti exemplifies is this poet's poetic translation of another poet's experience.
Match For Pablo, Para Ti with any intellectual translation of the same poem to see all the hazards of AI.
AI leaves out the essence; AI is always a collaborative translation.
Like reading Neruda in English.
There are just some things a computer can never express.
All that makes Life worth living, for example.
We bring ourselves to everything we experience.
Nowhere is this clearer than while we read.
We show ourselves in everything we create.
Nowhere is this clearer than while we make Art.
To exemplify your essence's experience of an experience is the point and purpose of all Artistic Endeavors.
AI can never experience Life, can never speak only translate.
