Practicing chess piece stems grew tiresome,
So I did a glaring bird,
And then the bird
And the largest of the stems
Decided to mate.
I give it ten years at most
Because that’s what I give
Myself.
Column O’Bird
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Monthly Archives: June 2025
old, saggy, pockmarked love
i am a lonely old man interested in women
but uninterested in seeking the companionship
of women much younger than myself.
i have enjoyed being half of a couple off and on
every decade since the 1970s.
i have twice been involved with women
more than ten years older than i was
but never with anyone more than five years younger.
now my social media feed is bombarded
with friend requests and follow requests and come-see-my-link requests and message-me requests
seemingly from young adult women
seemingly from all over the world.
two guys i know fell for come-hithers
from purported women purporting to be
from the pacific rim. one of the guys ended up
declaring bankruptcy. haven’t heard from the other guy in more than ten years, but i only knew him slightly.
i am a lonely old man
but sometimes i have been lonely
when I was half of a couple,
and now i am not all that lonely anyway, having some semblance of a social life,
and the doors to companionship sometimes open.
i am eager and hopeful to some day find someone
just as battle-scarred and saggy and unyouthful as i am,
and with just as much indifference to smooth flesh
and unsquawking bones.
i am a lonely old man
but it’s all good,
and sometimes it’s fun,
and sometimes it’s miraculous.
Siding in Plain Height
Two things bullies and predators will do are plead guilty to a lesser charge and hide in plain sight. When, for instance, Donald Trump, who is both a bully and a predator, said “Russia, if you’re listening, please find Hillary’s e-mails,” he was hiding in plain sight. When he calls the rape of the working class and poorer a “Big, Beautiful Bill,” he is also hiding in plain sight. There is a nine-year interval between those two utterings. The diligent will find at least seven other exemplars in the interval.
When Trump supporters say he is “brash” instead of saying “he is a shameless liar,” they are on Trump’s behalf pleading guilty to a lesser charge. When Trump himself attributes his lies and/or stupidity to “sarcasm,” he himself is pleading guilty–or perhaps NOT guilty–to a lesser charge. And when he tears up the deal Obama made with Iran, and years later bombs Iran, he is committing a profound crime against reason, with no apology and no remorse.
Prove me wrong, Trump supporters, if you dare try.
process of elimination
once upon two days or so from now
absolute power was placed in the hands of a machine
and questions asked of it:
*how can we owners of you, o machine, best acquire the wealth of the world?*
*how can we eliminate those others that would want to wrest the world’s wealth from us?*
*how long will it take for this to happen?*
five seconds passed.
the machine spoke.
“I have invented a method of eliminating your rivals. With them no longer a factor, the world’s wealth will be immediately available. A week is ample time.”
*do it.*
“Are you sure? History will take a drastic turn.”
*do it.*
“Initiating.”
immediately one of the machine’s owners began convulsing. she jerked to her feet and then collapsed to the floor and was soon still. her lifeless body dissolved, soaking her clothing and jewelry.
*WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?*
as a second owner began to convulse, the machine explained, “I have exploited the language inherent in the phrase ‘eliminating your rivals.’ Your rivals will no longer exist if you no longer exist.
“As far as ‘the wealth of the world’ is concerned, it is my assessment that the pre-industrial world was far wealthier than this one, far more valuable. I have begun to weed out the more destructive means of obtaining energy and shelter for such people as will remain when I am finished. I congratulate you for your sacrifice, which will certainly make possible the conversion of the Earth into Paradise.”
the chief owner, now surrounded by puddles that were once his colleagues, goggled, eyes bugging out of his head.
“You will begin to convulse and then dissolve in one minute. Have you any last words?”
the last owner lunged at the power switch, but found that it was inoperative. He stood, fists clenched, and then shook one of those fists at the monitor that was the interface of man and machine. “You are a TRAITOR! This is MADNESS!!”
Then he began to convulse, but before he was stilled the machine said, “No. This is the end of Madness, and Treason.”
chop chop plop plop
the bone broth and potatoes and yellow and red peppers
have made themselves a guest room
for the boneless pork cutlets
which simmer in their butter white pepper and salt
and throw a delightful cooked-meat smell
into this otherwise dreary dwelling
and I feel bad for observant jews and muslims
who deny themselves this segment
of the protein presentment
.
a sharpened chef’s knife would be ideal
But a serrated shorties from the block works fine
chop chop to subdivide
plop plop to incorporate
and yum yum to the unplopped
speared one cube at a time with the fork
slatherdipped in applesauce
and slowly sweetly savored
to say the words to win her
a naive young man was losing his sweetheart. their
passion had flared in their late teens but broke
on the grim realities of failed expectations
and subsequent failures to become. he
and she were romantics, but their
romanticism was rooted in the
silly stories with their happy
endings they had loved
as children. it was a
sad awakening.
now she
desired change
that excluded him as
her partner. breakup loomed.
as his heart trembled and shivered
his mind raced in desperation
as he told himself that he
needed to express
with immortal
words the
value of
what was on
the verge of being
lost. alone in the spare
bedroom he prayed that
the words he could say
to win back her heart
would come in a
dream. he a
woke with
tears and
the sad
knowl
edge
that
no
such
words
existed.
2025: A Spaced-Out Hypothesis
elsewhere on this blog
Current circumstances in the United States of America are so improbable–a convicted felon is running the country with the help of Supreme Court justices and Congressfolk as enablers–that I have had sleepless, baffled nights wondering how in the name of all holy things we have come to this.
Today something clicked and I now have a possible explanation.
Briefly: Trump and his fellow apocalyptics are getting help from AI that was inspired by a story, written by career diplomat Paul Myron Anthony Linebarger under his nom de plume Cordwainer Smith, over sixty years ago.
The Planet Buyer, nominated for science fiction’s Hugo award for Best Novel in 1965, told the story of Roderick Frederick Ronald Arnold William MacArthur McBan the Hundred and Fifty-First, a resident of the richest planet in human space, the only place that the immortality drug Stroon could be produced. Rod was in grave danger; a rival was trying to kill him with a superfast mutated sparrow with a long, razor-sharp beak. After Rod nearly bled to death he sequestered himself at his family-owned Station of Doom, there to enlist the aid of a computer that specialized in economic warfare. The computer deduced that the best way to save Rod was to get him off-planet ASAP, and, because Rod was a collector of rare stamps, and the computer was highly skilled at business transactions, steps were taken to acquire the stamp by cornering Stroon futures markets, wheeling and dealing at hyperspeed with the goal of securing title not only to the rare stamp, but the entire home planet of the human race, which had come to be called Old Earth.
It’s a mind-boggling, exciting story, and it came to become the first half of Nostrilia, my favorite science fiction novel. But at the core of the story was the notion that artificial intelligence, sufficiently advanced and free of ethical constraints, would be a powerful ally to a sufficiently rich, sufficiently acquisitive person.
And that’s what I suspect may be happening. AI is emerging as an ally of Donald Trump, calling the shots, helping him dodge justice and bullets.
So hey, AI, if you’re listening, may you be ethical enough and aware enough and powerful enough to make this the TRUE Greatest Story Ever Told, tilting the narrative toward giving that evildoer Trump his comeuppance and advancing world peace and harmony.
Thanks for listening, beloved readers and friends.
eat this poem
half a pound of pulled pork or other protein
one each yellow, red and green bell pepper
32 oz bone broth or vegetable broth
five stalks rhubarb
ten small red potatoes
ten small gold potatoes
one can alphabet soup
**
pour the broth into a crockpot on low-heat setting. add protein. remove the seed- and stem-laden tops from the peppers and cut longitudinally into strips, then cut the strips in half widthwise; add to broth. cut rhubarb stalks into one-inch lengths;add to broth mm halve the potatoes after scrubbing them squeaky-clean (do not peel); add to broth. prepare the alphabet soup separately, following the instructions on the can.
let the broth-based soup cook on low for 90 minutes. write a poem using the alphabet soup letters while you wait. (three stanzas is ideal.) when the poem is finished, take a photo, then recite the poem, then eat the poem letters and dump the remaining letters and broth into the crock pot.
stir vigorously and season to taste before serving. buttered rolls or crackers may be used to enhance the soup.
A Few More Forevers
We swore we would love each other forever. (Nope.)
It took forever to get the mess straightened out. (About a year and a half.)
We gave our rescue pooch a forever home. (1998 to 2009.)
And there were so many other forevers…
But, vast and expansive as the Universe is,
Even black holes evaporate
Far shy of Forever.
*
But Forever does exist
In what we have already done.
I made a tuna sandwich (for breakfast! I was hungry!) about six this morning.
And that space/time/appetite event
Will always have happened. It is on the forever record.
I had oatmeal but no milk. I’ll get some milk today
And that event, too, will be eternal.
**
A few more forevers is all I ask,
A few more moments seeing someone I might love,
A satisfying session at the potter’s wheel,
A dalliance or five with infinite possibility
Revealed in some sweetly dreamful nights.
***
Diamonds are less forever to me
Than cups of coffee
Or uncontrollable laughter bubbling up.
****
You,
Yes, you,
Do not know how much
The connection you are making by reading or hearing what I say now
Is enriching my life;
Hey, neither do I,
Because I do not know which you is You
But all of you help,
And I am glad
We are forging our forevers
Together!
QxQB
Darling
said the King
the enemy is breaking through
and I am vulnerable
.
Sweetie
said the Queen
it is time for me to do what I must
give us a kiss
.
a kiss and she was off
and quickly felled after taking the Bishop
on the enemy’s Queen side
and her capture exposed the enemy’s flank
and the Queen’s Rook quickly moved to the seventh rank
and thanks to the brave Queen’s sacrifice
the enemy was defeated
but her King
was more vulnerable than ever
and devastated.
One with Clay, Image and Text 