Some Poetry for Tuesday

Flannel Sheets and Winter Solstice

Touching, timely, poignant-

Christmas on the Border, 1929 Alberto Ríos, 1952 –

^{Based on local newspaper reports
and recollections from the time.}

1929, the early days of the Great Depression.
The desert air was biting, but the spirit of the season was alive.

Despite hard times, the town of Nogales, Arizona, determined
They would host a grand Christmas party

For the children in the area—a celebration that would defy
The gloom of the year, the headlines in the paper, and winter itself.

In the heart of town, a towering Christmas tree stood,
A pine in the desert.

Its branches, they promised, would be adorned
With over 3,000 gifts. 3,000.

The thought at first was to illuminate the tree like at home,
With candles, but it was already a little dry.

Needles were beginning to contemplate jumping.
A finger along a branch made them all fall off.

People brought candles anyway. The church sent over
Some used ones, too. The grocery store sent

Some paper bags, which settled things.
Everyone knew what to do.

They filled the bags with sand from the fire station,
Put the candles in them, making a big pool of lighted luminarias.

From a distance the tree was floating in a lake of light—
Fire so normally a terror in the desert, but here so close to miracle.

For the tree itself, people brought garlands from home, garlands
Made of everything, walnuts and small gourds and flowers,

Chilies, too—the chilies themselves looking
A little like flames.

The townspeople strung them all over the beast—
It kept getting bigger, after all, with each new addition,

This curious donkey whose burden was joy.
At the end, the final touch was tinsel, tinsel everywhere, more tinsel.

Children from nearby communities were invited, and so were those
From across the border, in Nogales, Sonora, a stone’s throw away.

But there was a problem. The border.
As the festive day approached, it became painfully clear—

The children in Nogales, Sonora, would not be able to cross over.
They were, quite literally, on the wrong side of Christmas.

Determined to find a solution, the people of Nogales, Arizona,
Collaborated with Mexican authorities on the other side.

In a gesture as generous as it was bold, as happy as it was cold:
On Christmas Eve, 1929,

For a few transcendent hours,
The border moved.

Officials shifted it north, past city hall, in this way bringing
The Christmas tree within reach of children from both towns.

On Christmas Day, thousands of children—
American and Mexican, Indigenous and orphaned—

Gathered around the tree, hands outstretched,
Eyes wide, with shouting and singing both.

Gifts were passed out, candy canes were licked,
And for one day, there was no border.

When the last present had been handed out,
When the last child returned home,

The border resumed its usual place,
Separating the two towns once again.

For those few hours, however, the line in the sand disappeared.
The only thing that mattered was Christmas.

Newspapers reported no incidents that day, nothing beyond
The running of children, their pockets stuffed with candy and toys,

Milling people on both sides,
The music of so many peppermint candies being unwrapped.

On that chilly December day, the people of Nogales
Gathered and did what seemed impossible:

However quietly regarding the outside world,
They simply redrew the border.

In doing so, they brought a little more warmth to the desert winter.
On the border, on this day, they had a problem and they solved it.

Saturday Poetry

You know the drill; click the title to get more.

herederos de cero Sheila Maldonado

I’ve returned from the question the motherland
a continually illegitimate relationship
I’m a pretend immigrant afraid of coats and the cold
stunned by space and the sun up in the face
landlocked behind the barbed wire of mama’s house

what did I do there scratch twitch stare
wandered with a prima and her daughters
was asked about the prima      who should have been there
she left the world      after her mama mi tía se fue
nadie era nadie           en esa casa only the men

it made my mama sick to see me leave
into the hot night of her origins
I return for the right to walk in the dark
like the black cat family
that roamed our alley in the valley of Sula

if I woke up at a decent hour I caught the colibrí
little brown red god came around 9 10am
humming into a tree of little red stems
never know names
a place of teeny overlooked gods

I drank tea      at the white iron table
another tía gave mama      they got on so well
about their nests           in the capital of slurs
will I be the only bird to be about the tree
last one flitting           do we want me to be

Finally Friday!

Have a poem. As always, the title is a link to learn more.

Blues Franchise David Henderson

^{Line from a letter, “Blues Franchise.” I believe it is a motif language rather than thought—intimately}

Blues as art as theme as exhibition

Up on a midtown metropolis edifice

Billboard façade 50 feet tall thirty feet wide: BLUE SMOKE

Of a black femme-like face framed by her fingers tapered upward in the V of her palms

Looking off, her eyes below her painted on eyebrows

And Caucasoid wig solid black

touching off of a violet plunging deeper into the decorated pigment

A frame furls hints of blue in a spectral geometry

Framing tightly the face, reposed

A white strap over one deep ochre shoulder as background

Could be trans-shim or a delightful Caledonia,

red skein of a lipstick kiss imprinted invisibly in a nano dimension

Replications across the marquees of legions of subway cars

Her face on the mini billboard above the seat next to

The moving doors

Always looking somewhere else as the

Masses travel to all destinations

Blues smoke surrounding whatever stage as forum

For the franchise

Forever after for as far as the past goes.

Entering the negative space of a corporate behemoth

A lobby of the skyscraper museum or loft like enclosures

interlocking directorates of high art residencies.

Consumer beware of what you purchase with your eyes,

The presence of your body

Out of the blue

You

Out of the blue

And into the blues

You

Out of the blue

You

Out of the blue

Vanish into the blue

you

Thursday Poetry

Click on the title to learn more about the poem and the poet.

my yoga teacher kassandra Andrei Codrescu 1946 –

has only good news for my body
and for my mind, she warms them
and she becalms them unlike her
greek namesake who left her
listeners terrified and tense
ah the onomastic turnaround
took twenty centuries to turn
the older story on its head
which explains ex-lingua why
my modern body feels comfort
in the new diachronic goddess

I am worn out and going to bed.

First I want to acknowledge that I still 11 tabs of comments I did not get to yet today. They are saved for tomorrow. I know Ali and Randy understand my situation so I want to clue the rest in before I go to bed, and yes I am very tired.

I went to bed about 5 PM last night after eating some beef stroganoff that Ron insisted I eat before going to bed. But I couldn’t sleep. So I tossed and turned until Ron came to bed hours later.

Then because we are a couple that love each other and like sleeping together we snuggled, me spooning him first and while he slept I did not. Then he woke and he wanted us to roll over so we did, now he was pressed tight to me … and again he fell asleep. Then about 11:45 he woke up and wanted to stop cuddling which I agreed with. He fell asleep.

Well I fretted but did manage to fall asleep about 11:45 pm or later … only to be woken by our rescue inside outside old cat that need lots of feedings started yellowing at the top of his small lungs. At 12:50 am. I got up. Ron who wakes up if I snort or cry out or hell even turn over wrong, sleeps through his cat’s cries. I feed him, the cat, not Ron. Then I returned to bed. I watched the clock. I was not going to get up, I was not going to get up, I was not going to get up … fuck it I got up. At 1:30 am. No sleep, grumpy.

About 5 am had some sloppy Joe mix Ron made the night before. It is not setting well with me. We have been having trouble finding one that tastes good but doesn’t make me thorw up.

Well I am online answering comments and doing my blogging stuff until Ron gets up at 6:30 am. I ask him if he wants to walk, he says no he wants me to go lay down, I am now two days without sleep. I go lay down at 7 am. I stay there until 7″30 am and can’t sleep, so get up and go to talk to Ron. He says I need to try longer. I do, At 9 am I get up and am determined to start my blogging day.

I am blogging and helping Ron. I do the dishes as Ron has been clearing the Florida Room junked up with stuff after Hurricane Ian we had nowhere else to put. An argument I made for a new shed that no one would listen to me on. We had a huge dresser packed with dishware, and we brought it in to be cleaned. We had a large stand up cabinet we emptied or more dishware and stuff we need so also brought that into the main house to clean.

So all day while I did laundry and helped Ron wash and dry dishes I did some blogging. It was all going great … Until this evening when Ron asked me several uncomfortable questions … Damn it!

Did you eat today he asked? Yes I joyfully told him I had the sloppy Joe mix you made last night, ate two buns so 4 sides. … he looked at me. Did it stay down. Well I stuttered … so far but it is trying hard to come back up. That was when he declared such mix off the menu until I can stomach better despite my counterarguments.

The rest of the afternoon went well, we worked on laundry and even the Florida room and moved / washed the stuff together for their new place in the house.

Then things took an ugly turn. At around 4:45 pm Ron decided I need to eat. I informed him (sounds better than saying I told him) I was not hungry. He got angry. Scottie he tried to sound authoritarian … you have to eat, you are losing too much weight and this is not good for you. I countered with I am not hungry and if I force my self I will be sick … But I relented and said OK how about a small salad. I love salads and in a small bowl even when I am really nauseated I can eat them.

But he had a better idea I liked right away. On the advice of our wonderful brother Randy Ron bought some yogurts for this situation. He gave me one and I did not complain … I knew better. I ate it. Not a flavor I like. I struggled it down anyway or else he was going to make something and watch me while I ate it.

Now it is nearly 6 pm here. I have not gotten to all the comments and pages I have opened … but I keep falling asleep at my desk. Not something I want to have Ron discover me doing. If he finds me asleep he will throw a huge fit that will take a lot more to solve than just going to bed. Plus my eyes keep blurring out and I clear them to realize I typed nonsense or worse. Night all. Hugs and loves. Scottie

Something to Read (Book Suggestion)

I put the bit about the book I thought could be of interest beneath. I’ve already read the other Bennet sister book, but my queue is itch for me to add “Sorcery and Small Magics”. The other books are enticing, as well.

Holiday Romance, the Bennet Sisters, & More

Sorcery and Small Magics

Sorcery and Small Magics by Maiga Doocy is $2.99! I just recommend this one to someone in Smart Bitches After Dark. If you didn’t know, I’m offering up personalized recommendations to subscribers and this one is a slightly cozy, queer, fantasy historical with rivals who are now magically connected after a curse goes wrong.

Desperate to undo the curse binding them to each other, an impulsive sorcerer and his curmudgeonly rival venture deep into a magical forest in search of a counterspell—only to discover that magic might not be the only thing pulling them together.

Leovander Loveage is a master of small magics.

He can summon butterflies with a song, or turn someone’s hair pink by snapping his fingers. Such minor charms don’t earn him much admiration from other sorcerers (or his father), but anything more elaborate always blows up in his face. Which is why Leo vowed years ago to never again write powerful magic.

That is, until a mix-up involving a forbidden spell binds Leo to obey the commands of his longtime nemesis, Sebastian Grimm. Grimm is Leo’s complete opposite—respected, exceptionally talented, and an absolutely insufferable curmudgeon. The only thing they agree on is that getting caught using forbidden magic would mean the end of their careers. They need a counterspell, and fast. But Grimm casts spells, he doesn’t undo them, and Leo doesn’t mess with powerful magic.

Chasing rumors of a powerful sorcerer with a knack for undoing curses, Leo and Grimm enter the Unquiet Wood, a forest infested with murderous monsters and dangerous outlaws alike. To dissolve the curse, they’ll have to uncover the true depths of Leo’s magic, set aside their long-standing rivalry, and—much to their horror—work together.

Even as an odd spark of attraction flares between them. <snip>

Sci-Fi Writer Arthur C. Clarke Predicted the Rise of Artificial Intelligence & the Existential Questions We Would Need to Answer (1978)

We now live in the midst of an artificial-intelligence boom, but it’s hardly the first of its kind. In fact, the field has been subject to a boom-and-bust cycle since at least the early nineteen-fifties.

Source: Sci-Fi Writer Arthur C. Clarke Predicted the Rise of Artificial Intelligence & the Existential Questions We Would Need to Answer (1978)

Trump Tributes

by Clay Jones

New Jersey drones and some MAGA ass-kissing. Read on Substack

I’ve felt sick and disgusted since November, and those feelings only increased after I read about what ABC News did. If Donald Trump sues me for doing my job, I will not cave like ABC News, and I’ll tell him to go suck a lemon (replace lemon with something else).

Trump has villainized the media and has tried to take away the credibility of the press. Trumpers believe legitimate news outlets are “fake news” while they share “news” from YouTube and repeat Trump’s lies. Back when I freelanced for CNN and I’d try to discuss an issue with a MAGAt, they’d say, “Oh, you’re with CNN. That explains a lot,” without ever telling me exactly what it explained.

Anytime a Trumper tells you a news outlet lies, they can’t cite one example. Yet, these same idiots are in a cult that worships a man who told over 30,000 in a span of four years.

And it’s not just the cultists who are kissing Trump’s ass.

Jeff Bezos is donating $1 million to Donald Trump’s inauguration. He also pulled an endorsement from The Washington Post which was for Kamala Harris. When Bezos purchased the Post, he promised he would never meddle with editorial decisions. Bezos said he’s “very optimistic” about a second Trump administration (sic) and will be meeting with the orange goon this week. What’s Bezos’ deal with kissing Trump’s ass after years of criticizing him? It’s Elon Musk.

Bezos has government contracts such as with the Post Office delivering Amazon shipments (which is why you see angry mailmen on Sundays) and through Blue Origins, his rock company (it’s the one that looks like a giant penis). Bezos has lost government contracts to Elon and his rocket company (it’s the one owned by a giant penis). How can Bezos compete when his competition is firmly entrenched up Trump’s ass. It’s why you can’t see Trump anymore without Elon by his side. He’s afraid if he goes to the toilet for one minute, he’ll find Bezos up Trump’s butt when he returns despite the fact he called dibs.

Mark Zuckerberg, who banned Trump from Facebook for a minute (along with Russian trolls until they started paying to post), is also pledging $1 million to Trump’s inauguration and said Trump’s “fight fight fight” after being nipped in the ear was “badass.” Zuck probably also thinks My Little Pony is badass. Zuck is also donating his hydrofoiling board along with his CD that contains Country Roads.

Sam Altman, the owner of OpenAI, is also pledging a million bucks to the grift and said Trump will “lead our country in the age of AI.” That’s great news actually because I hate AI and if Trump is leading it, it’s doomed. But the thing is, Sam knows this and is only saying stupid shit to kiss Trump’s ass.

There’s no word yet on all the donors but former contributors to inaugurations are keeping mum, such as Google, Walmart, Home Depot, Target, etc, but nobody seems concerned about how their money is spent and they’re probably all resigned to the fact their donations will probably be grifted.

Trump raised $107 million for his inauguration in 2017 and a lot of that money disappeared. Sure, they paid for Three Doors Down (opening shot makes me think of what Trump must look like first thing in the morning) to sing Kryptonite and there was a very fine parade of tractors (look at the crowd size), but that didn’t cost $107 million. At least $1 million of it was spent for a ball at what was then Trump’s Washington hotel, but how many more millions landed in Trump’s bank account?

Trump has refused government funding for his inauguration in order to accept private donations. He says he’s saving taxpayer’s money when the truth is, he just wants to be bribed.

The donors didn’t care what happened to the money just so long as they won Trump’s favor, but what’s even more disgusting is when the media kisses the royal rump.

Bezos kissing Trump’s ass and using the Post to do it is one disgusting thing, but then there’s ABC News giving Trump $15 million for his stupid library.

ABC News agreed to pay $15 million to settle a defamation lawsuit filed by Trump. He was miffed by the way George Stephanopoulos used the term “liable for rape” to characterize a 2023 civil case in Manhattan, the one where a jury ruled that Trump, the rapist, was liable for sexual abusing and defaming the writer E. Jean Carroll, who won $83 million from Rapey Trump. The judge noted that the jury’s verdict didn’t mean Carroll failed to prove Trump, the rapist, raped her.

The bar is high for libeling a public figure and Mr. McRapey is the most public of them all. News organizations usually don’t settle these bullshit lawsuits as they have the First Amendment on their side. When they do settle, it’s usually because it’s cheaper than paying their lawyers through a long tedious lawsuit, and not for something like $15.

Fox News had to settle with Dominion Voting Systems for $787.5 million but they were guilty as fuck and they’re not a real news organization. So why did ABC settle with a guy liable for rape?

ABC News, which is owned by Disney, settled to kiss Trump’s ass but all they did was give him more encouragement to file bullshit lawsuits. What ABC selfishly did was hurt the entire news industry, which Trump, the rapist, has called the “enemy of the American people.”

Disney should understand that they shouldn’t kiss the ring of Darth Sidious. They own Star Wars. At least Palpatine never had over two dozen women accuse him of rape and sexual assault, not even a female gundark.

Today, Trump scolded the government for not giving out more information about drones in New Jersey, but if the government knows what’s going on with Jersey drones, then Trump probably does too. Sorry to scare you like this but since he’s president-elect (sic), he’s getting daily briefings which means Vladimir Putin is getting daily briefings. Maybe the drones are delivering Big Macs to Bedminster.

Creative note: Proofer Laura asked if I intended to make a Hunger Games parallel with this cartoon. Since I’m the only person in the nation who’s never watched Hunger Games despite there being abundant nudity with dragons (I’ve been told and I hope it’s not just naked dragons), I did not intentionally make that reference, but it sounds cool the way Laura described it.

Laura told me, “In the Hunger Games the “tributes” are the people forced to fight to the death, and drones are used to deliver gifts from audience members to help the tributes survive.” What kind of drones? Dragon drones? What if they smoked the tributes? Can you say a dragon ate my homework?

Laura also said, “In the Hunger Games the gifts sent to competitors are hugely expensive and only very wealthy sponsors can afford to send them, Bezos and Musk types.” That sounds about right. The only people who won’t be eaten by a dragon over the next four years will be people like Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk.

I wish I could send Trump a dragon. (snip)