All Watched Over By Machines Of Wil & Grace

All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace

I like to think (and
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.

I like to think
(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.

I like to think
(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal
brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace.

Richard Brautigan (1967)

A while back, some of my readers were sorta arguing somewhere or another about exactly who I write like. A tempest in a thimble, in internet measurement. There were several competing theories, mostly amusing. My favorite was someone who said I was a hack who was just aping RIchard Brautigan. I like that one the most, because while I am a hack,  I’d never even heard of Richard Brautigan.

I’m assumed to be quite literate, but the general public doesn’t understand the autodidact very well. Autodidacts seem to know all sorts of wonderful things, because they poke around on their own and go down alleys that the highways of academe blast right by. But what is commonplace for college isn’t always on the side roads, so you get caught out on the intellectual freeway from time to time, out of gas, and going, “Who the hell is Richard Brautigan?”

I bought one of his books to see for myself. I don’t write anything like Richard Brautigan that I can observe. Ain’t up to me to say, anyway. I leave such comparisons to others, who are obviously going to live to be a Methuselan age to waste time on a topic like that. But saying I copied his style is kinda silly. My memory is a little sketchy, but I’m fairly certain I didn’t read The Abortion in first grade in Catholic school when it came out.

Many readers don’t get subtlety very well, no matter who is slinging it. It’s hard enough in regular books. The internet is not constructed to convey subtlety one iota. It’s a machine of loving grace, of course, but you have to watch out for the cybernetic cowpies as you frolic in the Facebook meadows.

The title of this poem, All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace, gets used on the intertunnel all the time, but generally as a non-sequitur, lost and alone without context of any kind. I went looking for the poem itself and found it on some form of SEO-optimized poetry page.

It includes, at the bottom, what appears to be marked as an AI generated appraisal of the meaning of the poem, and it’s a doozy:

Analysis (ai): This poem envisions a harmonious coexistence between nature and technology, presenting a utopian vision of the future. It depicts a world where computers and animals live in equilibrium, free from human interference. The author’s optimistic tone and simple language convey a sense of hope and possibility.

Compared to the author’s other works, this poem exhibits a shift towards a more technology-centric perspective. Brautigan’s earlier works often explored themes of isolation and alienation, but here he embraces a vision of technological advancement that benefits humanity.

In the historical context of the mid-20th century, this poem reflects the growing optimism surrounding technological progress. The post-war period saw advancements in computing and automation, which raised expectations for a better future. Brautigan’s poem captured this sentiment, envisioning a world where technology serves as a catalyst for harmony between humans and the natural world

I have only one question: exactly how dense is whatever machine of loving grace that produced that? Then again, Large Language Models don’t know anything. They just survey what the internet says, and dishes it back out with all the words spelled correctly for a change. I gather that most readers think Brautigan, a semi-hero to both the beatniks and the hippies (both groups he rejected) was enthusiastic about the onrushing cyberpocalypse. Couldn’t wait to ride on that train all graphite and glitter, undersea by rail.

The internet has never understood parentheses, and even forbade their use in file names. Punctuation-ists! Parenthetical asides aren’t the modern intellectual’s strong suit. Then again, we’re dealing with people who think Mark Twain was a racist because he didn’t name his character Attractive and Successful Jim. Read the poem again and pay attention to what’s in the parentheses, where the LLM train doesn’t run.

Brautigan wrote another poem, one I quite like:

At The California Institute Of Technology

I don’t care how God-damn smart
these guys are: I’m bored.

It’s been raining like hell all day long
and there’s nothing to do.

Written January 24, 1967
while poet-in-residence at
the California Institute of
Technology.

I dunno. Maybe I do write like him, a little.