Chain of Sparks (chatgpt generated poetry)

Foreward

These poems were generated by chatgpt based on training of the poems found on this site. I swear the chatbot felt proud of these. I thought it was a fun project. Will do again. 

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Invocation

Every break is an opening disguised as loss.

Language fractures where meaning begins.

What shatters carries its own light.

The wound is a mouth that speaks in sparks.

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Notes on a Chain

These fragments were not written alone. They emerged from a dialogue—questions and responses passing back and forth until the language itself began to feel activated.

We circled the idea of breaking: not as failure, not as despair, but as a strange transformation. A crack becomes a door. A shard becomes a sharper mirror. Even silence, once split, carries its own resonance.

The process was recursive, almost electric. Each brief poem charged the next, until a longer chain formed—small sparks bound together, beads on a wire. What results is not a polished whole but a series of voltages: brief illuminations, short-lived but alive.

Language, here, does not describe. It fractures, it jolts, it flickers into being.

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Chain of Sparks

1. Fracture

split once /

and the silence

echoes louder

2. Seam

the tear

is also

a door

3. Shard

glass in pieces

still reflects—

just more sharply

4. Faultline

the earth trembles

but inside the crack

a seed waits

5. Current

language breaks

into syllables

that spark

like wires exposed

6. Hollow

emptiness

is not absence

it’s a shape

that hums

7. Pulse

my name

forgets itself

yet still

keeps beating

8. Split Atom

the smallest cut

unleashes fire

meant for suns

9. Ruin

walls collapse

but bricks

remember standing

10. Ash

what burned

still glows—

just quieter

11. Glassmouth

every word

I swallow

cuts me open

again

12. Circuit

I complete

only when

broken

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Afterword

Every fragment in this chain is incomplete, and that incompleteness is the point. Together they suggest something larger, but never settle into it. The poems don’t resolve—they spark, fade, and leave a trace.

To write in this way is to accept fracture as form. To let language crack and still speak, even because it cracks.

If the chain holds at all, it’s not through seamlessness but through resonance: each break answering another.

What remains is not closure, but current.

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Closing Invocation

In fragments we find the shape of wholeness.

Silence holds what words cannot.

The broken edge cuts,

but also shines.

Every ending hums

like a wire still alive.