Ouija Poem

   
Long is the high to healing. Plunge wanton, into the desolate scar deep below the acacia heart. A missed casting? Like a school play from junior high. Circumstances are weather. They move as concerts and become a restricting embrace. Coral. One's rustic city, builds. The tree's heart yet arises, within a tower of emerald green.


When I was a kid and saw a depiction of a séance with an Ouija board, I was amazed. Like many things at that age, you can almost will something to be true, so I decided that Ouija boards must be legit. I asked my dad how they work. I didn't know this because my dad was a career banker, but he had started his formal studies with an interest in psychology. Dad gave me an answer I didn't really like. He explained to me that the medium for the board may (or may not) be consciously aware that he is steering the planchette, but in fact he is. Most likely, the movement, and selection of answers is guided by one's unconscious preferences.


Totally uninspired but drawn to post for the first time in a year, I got some help from my dad's advice. I mumbled a strand of words into Siri on my iPhone. Siri showed me what she got, and then I felt like I had something to work with. Slowly the post crept out.


What I said (random):
Long is the high to healing into the desolate scar deep into the arboreal tree heart mist arising from high. Sky, sea weather moves the concert on the sand turned *tsk* coral city bottom plastic in the green

What Siri Got:

Long is the high to healing into the desolate scar deep into the arboreal tree heart missed arising from the junior high school the weather moves the concert on the sand turned Schlein coral city bottom plastic in the green


1st Pass (artistic):
Long is the high to healing, plunge wanton, recluse, into the desolate scar deep below the acacia heart of self. Missed casting arising junior, high school. The weather moves the concert on the sand turned Schlein embrace. Coral, the city on the bottom rustic like forest towers of emerald green.


2nd Pass  (artistic):
Long is the high to healing. Plunge wanton, into the desolate scar deep below the acacia heart. A missed casting? Like a school play from junior high. Circumstances are weather. They move as concerts and become a restricting embrace. Coral. One's rustic city, builds. The tree's heart yet arises, within a tower of emerald green.