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Monthly Archives: July 2025

(Recap: a boxer has a girlfriend whose magic thread, sewn into his gloves, gave him stamina and helped him win his fights. She unstitched it at his request and he won matches without magical help. She grew jealous of his female fans and restitched the gloves to wilt him, both in the ring and on his shorts. He confronted her and she again undid the stitching and committed to doing whatever he asked, provided he won his next bout.)

F.R. was outweighed by 7 pounds at the weigh-in

And was glad

He felt lean and slippery quick

And at the bell he was silent and tentative at first

They traded inconsequential jabs

F. got clipped with a glancing roundhouse to the brow

Then danced back from a left of murderous power

Then he weaved in under his foe’s punches and said You are getting one in the ribs just as he delivered a non-dominant-hand uppercut below his opponent’s guard

And just as the round was ending F. said I hope you like snowstorms

.

In round two F poured it on

He attacked like George Patton and he trash-talked like Larry Bird with a snowstorm of punches in flurries that built to a blizzard

Heedless of defending his face he did get a convincing punch in the nose that brightened the inside of his head and gave him blood to taste in the back of his mouth

But he barked a laugh and said Share and share alike and delivered an amazingly accurate payback punch to his foe’s nose

Then threw body shots that landed faster than jumprope smacking hardwood

And then the enemy was down

.

Wobbly after the eight-count F.’s opponent proved vulnerable to combinations to the swollen-eyed side of his head

And early in the fourth round F. knocked the guy out

.

How shall we celebrate? Cecilia asked him, eyes shining.

We’ll have to wait till tomorrow, F. told her. I have some unfinished business. He gave her a quick kiss and said See you in the morning and left her.

.

Where did you go? Cecilia demanded, regarding her man carrying an assortment of thin packages under his arm.

First your grandmother’s. Then Macy’s, where I bought these, and he slightly hefted the arm-bundle, then your grandmother’s again, where I spent the night.

He lifted his arm over their dining-room table. The packages, which contained bras, scattered on the lace tablecloth. You’re a 34B, right?

What the hell…?

These are Maidenform bras. Some of them have the “M” logo charm on them, some don’t. But what I did, I had your grandmother, who is even more witchy than you are, sew different variations of “Maidenform” on each one of them. If you put one of them on, it will change you, just like what you sewed on my gloves changed me.

Her eyes widened.

He picked one of them up. This one is “Maldenform.” It will, honest to God, change your nipples into replicas of Karl Malden’s nose.

She gasped.

He picked up another. And this one is “Maidenfarm.” Ever wonder what it would be like to have udders instead of breasts?

She shuddered.

Hey, you shuddered. Fun fact: You can’t spell “shuddered” without Udder.

She rolled her eyes and then looked aghast.

But I will only ask you to wear this one. And last week you told me you would do whatever I asked. He handed her the bra.

She looked at her grandmother’s stitching and it said, in elegant cursive, “MaidenfOMFG.”

WHAT WILL HAPPEN?? she wailed.

He grinned. Trust me. Like you said you would.

She looked at him balefully, then stood up and slowly unbuttoned her blouse, then wrestled herself out of her sports bra. She looked down at her perfectly normal, slightly slouchy breasts, then slipped her arms though the straps of her new bra. Before she fastened the clasp in the front she looked him in the eye, trying to get a clue from his expression, which was inscrutable.

Immediately after she fastened the bra, a humming noise came from the cups. She felt her breasts grow warm, then almost hot. The voice of Hank Williams came from the clasp, singing

Hey,

Good Lookin

What

Ya got cookin’?

How about cookin’ something up with

Me?

Abruptly the singing stopped. The humming stopped. The heat from the cups subsided.

Her hands flew to the clasp and she pulled the bra open, then looked down with astonishment.

Her breasts were unchanged.

She looked a question at him.

He grinned. Guess they were OMFG all along.

And he explained that he hadn’t wanted revenge

He had just wanted her to go through something like he had gone through

And he did like her breasts just fine but she was no more her breasts than he was his fists

And he loved her, jealousy and all, and wanted to be with her forever, if she could stand it that he enjoyed the admiration of other females at a distance

And she inhaled and held her breath for three seconds and said Okay and I love you too and

She suddenly laughed and said You wear Jockey shorts, right?

Yeah…?

Any problem with me sewing Hung like a Jockey’s Horse on them?

He laughed and said Go ahead. I doubt if you will notice the difference.

She rolled her eyes and said You are SO full of..

He kissed her.

The End

(Recap: The witchy girlfriend of an aspiring boxer has used magic thread to reinforce the “Last” part of his Everlast gloves. After winning bouts by going the distance, the boxer told his girlfriend that he wanted to win without magical help. She bought him new gloves and he started winning by not going the distance, winning by knockout or TKO instead. His growing fame led to a surge of e-mails and snail-mail from his female fans (among others) and his girlfriend got jealous. In spite she sewed a tiny N to the left of the EVERLAST on his gloves, and now the boxer finds himself totally useless, both in the ring and the bedroom.)

[N]Everlast, part 2

Bereft of manhood

Both in his hapless fists and in his boxing trunks

F.R. the boxer wept

And worried

With an important fight coming up in mere days

.

He went to his jealous lover Cecilia

Accused her of sabotaging him

And she pulled the shoebox of letters out from under the bed

And asked him who was sabotaging who

.

You know what? F. said chuckling

I totally love those letters

And I’m sorry you saw them

Because I knew you would go ballistic

She started to answer but held up a hand

I like that women want me

But it’s just lust for the big sweaty boxer

Just craziness

Now undo whatever you have done ASAP

You don’t want a man who can’t be a man, right?

.

She saw his honest earnest face and apologized

She showed him the little Ns and got out her forked unstitching tool

And unN’d the gloves

He pulled his trunks by the waistband to check his junk

Smiled and said Little F is waking up

She beckoned to the bedroom but he shook his head

Sorry Doll

I got to save my juice for the big fight

And if I win I will want some payback

He looked at her lovingly but repeovingly

I mean–you invaded my privacy and then got me clobbered

She blushed and nodded

He asked her Do you trust me?

She said Yes I do

If you trust me, and love me, will you do whatever I ask you to do after the fight?

She nodded and said Yes I will.

(To be concluded)

Once upon a time

There was a boxer who courted a witch seamstress

And she was nuts about him

And she sewed stitching onto the “LAST” syllable of his Everlast gloves

And he always went the distance

And he lasted all night too

Until he didn’t and he didn’t

The day after he told her he wanted to win without any magical help

And she bought him a new pair of gloves

.

He didn’t always go the distance

But often it was due to his winning by knockout

His confidence grew and he was proud

And though all-nighters were in their sexual rearview mirror

A dependable hour and a half or so brought smiles to both their faces

And he got more rest and won more fights and moved up the undercard

.

He started getting fan mail

Phone calls

Shoutouts from female celebrity fans

And she grew jealous

And one livid day she found a cache of snail-mail letters under his side of the bed

Some were explicit but the tender ones were worse

She blushed and fumed

And she used her magic thread to see a tiny, unnoticeable N to the left of the EVERLAST on both of his gloves

.

Next time he sparred his sparring partner pulverized him

(To be continued)

a friendly looming chatterbox held court with his dark friend

in the valley of the sunshine where the shadows bring relief

and the dark beplumed nonlady wished the yakyakyak would end

but she sat in silent dignity

endured the long debrief

at long last the non-yak yakker asked her what she made of it

and she cocked her head in thought and looked her friend up in the eye

and she shrugged; allowed a birdbrain like her didn’t give a whit

she just wished for unlocked wings and open windows for to fly

and her friend reared up and clacked his beak but grinned and said exactly

and you know that’s what i’ve thought for years and added good for you

and his friend beak-smiled at all the nonsense

said matter-of-factly

and kept to herself the evidence her pal’s a birdbrain too

the tomato slicer clocks out heads home takes a nap/awakens mid-afternoon and it still being too hot to walk outside/takes a look at movie listings on amazon prime

he sees a jack reacher title/and clicks on it to find to his dismay that it is not the new guy/but a miscast tom cruise instead/but it has some good improbable action/but is plagued by commercials/so he exits playing about 45 minutes in

clicks on the “continue playing” button for the good the bad and the ugly/which he’d watched a chunk of in its greasepainted glory a week ago/with clint eastwood and lee van cleef and eli wallach as the arch archetypes

the tomato slicer noted with astonishment that this spaghetti western miraculously left a taste of spaghetti in his mouth

making him hungry so he took a convenience store burrito from the fridge and reviewed the microwave instructions and followed them

and as the burrito was cooling saw in the amazon prime listings thunderbolt and lightfoot/with clint eastwood and a really young jeff bridges and george kennedy

the delighted tomato slicer fired it up/he’d missed this film in the 70s but always wanted to see it

and it tasted like sawdust but in a good way/and smelt of the linseed oil the tomato slicer used/when he was briefly an oil painter in the mid 70s

oddly though no trace of turpentine was in the scent

there is no accounting for taste, i suppose the tomato slicer mused as he fired up bad boys clint and jeff again

and as he ate and watched/he couldn’t help misting up/thinking about what time had done for and to eastwood and bridges

plus poor george kennedy had died ten days after his 91st birthday more than eight years ago

but the movie being nice and raw and weird soon banished such mawkish thoughts

yet the tomato slicer having finished the burrito/now daydreams of amidnight snack of a tomato-and-mayonnaise sandwich on extra-sour san francisco sourdough bread

and a big glass of cold cold milk

and another movie

Bishop Confers with Rook

Hey Rook, said the Bishop, the Queen’s Knight has his eye on me

I am threatened

How about defending me?

.

Can’t, said the Rook

You may well go down in a move or two

But it will be for the greater good

.

I don’t want to die! cried the Bishop

.

Cmon, Holy Father

You guys are born to be sacrificed

They might even make a saint out of you

.

You heartless pile of bricks! the Bishop sniped

You have never given me so much as the time of day

.

Not true, said the Rook

I pray for you every move

That you do the right thing

Now go to King’s Bishop Six

And we will win

.

Reluctantly the Bishop did as told

And the enemy Knight ran him through

And four moves later the Enemy was checkmated

According to the Maker’s plan

.

The Bishop sighed as he was put away

Another game another lancing of the heart

But every piece gets put away sooner or later

And, miraculously,

Each new game starts with Resurrection

And Re-Deployment

d for dimension and distance and dear

d for discography duh disappear

dangle a doodad for dimpled delight

dip into dollars for funtime or flight…ah, but

.

dastardly doer of doomscrolling deeds

drops new distractive denouncements in screeds

direness daunts what we need is relief

drive out this dreadfulness cease with this grief…so

.

dante’s inferno’s a third of the tale; let’s

dare to climb through purgatorio’s wail

dance with the deities rise with the leaven

deem ourselves worthy of striving for heaven…xoxo

an older frank sinatra sang lyrics from “the way you look tonight”/and they used it for a commercial/with stills of frank singing and smiling/and who knows what the commercial was advertising/but i trust it showed to frank/that he still had it/and was valued

a really old tony bennett/brought tears to lady gaga’s eyes/simply by recognizing her when she came out to sing with him/and they sang timelessly together/though tony was addled with dementia

glen campbell and alice cooper were golfing together/and glen told alice a joke early in the round/and then told him the same joke later in the round/and yet again before the round was over/but glen kept on performing on stage/and bathing in the applause/and he was still really good/and muscle memory kept his guitar playing astonishing

and i identify with and cheer for those old guys/and learn from them/that spending the last of your life making music/even when much of you is gone/is a glorious testament to “the show must go on”

.

i was an art major in college/and jokingly told my friends and family/that i was getting an early jump on my retirement

turns out not to be a joke

i will be seventy-one before the end of august

and i blissfully spend hours and hours making things on the potter’s wheel

i turn lumps into cylinders and cylinders into chess pieces and goblets and vases and birds

and I watch with increasing detachment as another part of my mind slowly erodes

for instance I did a search on “glenn campbell”/because i’d forgotten that “glen” has only one n in it

.

but back to “the way you look tonight”

it is a distant echo of the lines “And all that’s best of dark and bright/Meet in her aspect and her eyes” from “She Walks in Beauty” by george gordon, lord byron

“aspect” loosely translating as “the way she looks”

fun fact: “specchio” is old italian for “looking-glass”

.

i don’t give a care about leaving a good-looking corpse

but i care fervidly about leaving some good-looking and well-made clay art

so I raise the “power turquoise” cup i made, and i raise it to you, whoever and wherever you are,

and say, though i cannot see you,

“Here’s looking at you, Kid.”

The Queen woke up as

I was adding a bulbous earring.

“You have changed me completely,” she scolded.

“I do not recognize myself.”

“Gone is my patrician nose

And my delightful androgyny

And the angular cut of my cheekbone.

Why?”

I shrugged.

“You are more You now.

You have defined eyes

And the innate regality of a survivor

And the hint of a smile

That sees you through the worst.

You are more real.”

She made me widen her eyes

And put a teardrop near the right lacrimal duct.

But of course when I did that

I had to do a dozen other things.

“You are making me more homely,” she complained.

“No. I am sculpting you, and you are sculpting me

Just as much. You are uniquely lovely

And your daughters will be lovelier still.”

This silenced her

And soon I was finished.

“They sell us the President the same way/They sell us our clothes and our cars/They sell us everything from Youth to Religion/The same time they sell us our wars.” Jackson Browne, “Lives in the Balance,” mid-1980s

lampreys and rose stems and skeeters, o my.

vampires and vacuums and vegas, o my.

Lobbyists Senate and Congress, O MY.

suckers all,

and the paradox is THEY

are playing US for suckers.

.

and we need an antidote for suckery

and rhymes thereof.

.

doubt of,

discipline against, and

intolerance for scams…

these will help.

but a distaste for “red meat” is as essential.

we all have a hankering for that salacious,

gobsmacking, itch-scratching

metaphorical “red meat.”

so let us say to ourselves, “ah, the best of me

doesn’t want that. only my

Inner Lizard wants that.

because it’s fluffy and tasty.

but side effects include

Genocide, Armament, Despotism

and Destruction.”

.

let us banish the Lizard

to the Hell It is creating.

let It rule there

exclusive of all elsewheres.