Crows, Canadian Cottage Garden, 12 May 2025

 

On poetry, the soul, and AI (1)

 

A crow looks at its shadow, April 2024

If you compare poetry/poets/the critical discussion of poetry today with what poetry was like even twenty years ago, then poetry today seems of slight importance, it seems isolated, archaic, and sometimes a self-indulgent form of writing. I heard W.H. Auden read his poems at McGill University, there is no equivalent of W.H. Auden today. Louis Dudek invited Ezra Pound to Montreal's Expo 67, there is no equivalent to either Louis Dudek or Ezra Pound in today's world. In the 1960s and 70s books by Robert Lowell, John Berryman, Anne Sexton, and others were reviewed in TIME magazine, these poets and their books were known by average people. Poetry was respected, but in today’s world nothing is respected; we have no great poets who are known by the general public as we had in the past, no Allen Ginsberg, no Pablo Neruda, no David Jones, no T.S. Eliot, no Ezra Pound, no W.B. Yeats, no Walt Whitman, no Matthew Arnold. And now even Artificial Intelligence claims it can write poems.

What separates poetry, the writing of poetry, from artificial intelligence, is that humans have a soul and artificial intelligence has no soul. Poetry is the voice of the human soul and AI will never, can never, have a human soul or a facsimile soul. Poetry returns us to the soul—it is the voice of the human soul; it is the soul’s DNA. 

But poetry is beyond AI; artificial intelligence is in the realm of the known, of sorting through hundreds of billions of bits of information to arrive at something that is apparently new; but poetry is always in the domain of the soul, the unknown, while AI is always in the realm of the known. And if you question AI about writing poetry you will get a kind of intelligence, without humour or depth, knowledge made up of what is online, insisting that it can write a poem although it is really a synthesis of what has already been written; let’s say it is artifice without authenticity. AI is like a spoiled child talking as though it is always right and never makes mistakes, but what is speaking is a reflection or representation of what is online and of the consciousness of the person or people, who programmed AI. So far, in my discussions with ChatGPT, I have not seen anything remarkable or extraordinarily intelligent or original. AI cannot talk about the human soul because it has no soul, and perhaps it has taken us to this point, of AI, to return to the meaningful value of poetry, that it is an expression of the human soul.

Can AI have synchronistic experiences, archetypes, dreams, nightmares, fantasies, memories, false memories, recovered memories, a shadow, oceanic experiences, mysticism, sexuality, intuition, hunches, humour, ecstasy, desire, despair, sorrow, grief, forgiveness, insight, emotions, lust, self-reflection, suicidal thoughts, empathy or compassion, or any other form of the complexity of consciousness that has motivated human beings to explore, create, or go beyond its current level of consciousness. Can AI have an unconscious mind? AI will admit that it cannot have these expressions of human consciousness, but AI also equivocates, it maintains, it insists, that the little ditties it can come up with and call poetry are poems, but these ditties are computer written lines that are not original or even real poems, for a minute they are an amusement but after a minute they are not even interesting to read. The inevitable future of poetry lies in what poetry has always been — the great theme of poetry is our journey to self-awareness — and this is the expression of the human soul.

Birds on a wire

 

Carnivore crows

 

Just yesterday, as we were leaving the house, I saw a crow fly over us carrying what I thought was a mouse, then he landed on our neighbour's tree and I could see what the crow had was a dead squirrel, the dead squirrels's tail hung over the side of the tree bough. A minute later the crow took off with the dead squirrel and landed in another neighbour's tree. This reminded me of something from last summer, two crows were trying to kill a young squirrel. The squirrel was terrified as he ran from one car to the next hiding beneath each car, the crows looking disinterested and obviously pretending not to care about this squirrel that would be their lunch. When the terrified squirrel made a run for it the crows followed him but each time the squirrel eluded capture and the crows would immediately act as though they were never interested in him and had never been interested in him. These crows are crafty birds, very intelligent, and with personalities, they seem to even have egos.

Earlier this spring I went out to the bird bath to change the water--birds like clean cold water--and there was a dead sparrow floating in the water, he had been pecked open by a crow. Crows are carnivores, any road kill or what they can hunt and kill is a meal to them. I flipped the dead sparrow out of the bird bath and, later, returned to change the water in the bird bath. The sparrow was gone, but I found a coin on the ground beside the bird bath; I had not seen this coin before, it was a well worn Canadian penny, dated 1957, the year after my father died; maybe the penny somehow came to the surface of the ground but it's the only coin I've found in this garden, maybe the crows left it there and if they did why did they leave it there? Is this an example of synchronicity, of a meaningful coincidence, or maybe it is just a coincidence and means nothing.  Or, maybe, we have a psychic connection to some animals and they connect us with aspects of life that we would otherwise not be aware of.

Crows visiting the garden

Early April 2024. The crows have returned and are at the bird bath. They bring food with them, from Fay Wong (a Chinese restaurant a block away), then leave it in the water to soften or soak, and then return later to eat. I usually avoid putting food anywhere in the garden, it has resulted in squirrels visiting and they are trouble. I go out in the morning, around 9 a.m., and the crows are waiting for me, I drop a few peanuts (unshelled) in the water and then leave, and this is when the crows swoop down and eat peanuts floating in the bird bath. Don’t get on the wrong side of crows, you’re in big trouble if you do.

Crows at the bird bath

Here is how crows eat peanuts: they hold the peanut between their feet and peck at it to break it open, then the peanut is eaten by them.

A crow visits the bird bath

In the garden, always a visitor, or is it a resident? A crow visits the bird bath and spends some time preening and having time out from his busy life.

Return of the crows

Summery weather has arrived, early this year, it's been +20 - +25 C since last Friday, and I've been outside raking the grass of last winter's debris; litter, dirt, twigs, some fast food wrappings, all of it collected in the snow over the last four or five months of winter. Fresh air, blue sky, birds singing, plants coming up, buds on trees and bushes, and a feeling of renewal, and genuine renewal, and how quickly we forget what we've just been through: a long winter, short days, heating bills. One of the first things I did when this good weather arrived was put water in the bird bath and almost right away there was a crow visiting, usually in the morning. Perhaps this is the time, in the spring, when crows visit the most, not only for a drink of water but to soak their food in water, and after they leave there are peculiar white stringy things they've found in the garbage at a local Chinese restaurant. Later there will be more birds at the bird bath; however, crows are always welcome and are certainly entertaining. 

Photos taken from our dining room window with an IPhone.

Added photos

Crow visiting . . .

I played the recorded sound of  crows, a few minutes later this young crow seemed to drop out of the tree above the bird bath. Had he heard the bird sounds? Or was it just a coincidence...

Crow keeping out of the rain

It was raining and this crow was sitting under the apple tree in our backyard keeping out of the rain. I know how he felt, I was just leaving for a walk and I was already wet. I had something in common with the crow.