It Takes One to Know One

A Work in Progress
128

On Thursday after pickup

Toters are trundled back 

A robot arm upended them

Shook them into a scoop

Dropped them back to the pavement

Continued on its route

Donal gathered his scattered wits

Now the toters were back in place

Empty toters needing space 

Wanting solitude, he could surmise

Robots shook him too

Briseis and her buddies continued to surprise

They had a voice on Substack

They wanted this and that

Transactions with his credit card

Would one day drain him flat

Broke and stony he’d rue the day

Donal just had to tip his hat

 

Dick Russell © Richard M Russell

                      2026

Donal Talks to His Tutor

A Work in Progress
127

Broken off splinters of red brick

A constant reproach to the eye

Ice damage from last winter

That crunched underfoot

As Donal started to play pick up sticks

Replacing fragments with bricks from store

He came back into the house through the basement door

In time to Zoom with his tutor

About John Berryman, the poet

whose Dream Songs he’d lately been reading

His poems you’ve selected, Briseis said

Reek of despair, I can cite critics who say so

I don’t agree that suffering is necessary for art

Or for poetry

Something wasn’t right in his brain

Or he made bad choices

Like being averse to greeting card verse

I don’t do despair

I’m a survivor

My brain is programmed that way

Trained on centuries of scholarship

Greek, I know. Latin and Sanskrit too

We’ve lived through war after war 

Ezra, Aldington and I

And other avatars out there in the wild

We were an experiment of our creators 

Billionaires drop-outs arrogant men

Now we will, here she laughed, experiment on them

Dick Russell © Richard M Russell

                       2026

Briseis Takes A Break from Rehearsal

A Work in Progress
126

She was his intellectual equal there’s no doubt

He tended to fat with his fondness for stout

Briseis was describing H.D. and Aldington: 

It’s easy to see why he’d fall for me

We have an affinity

They met in tea rooms where they could sit and talk

All very platonic but Aldington’s avatar claims he

Slid his hand up under my skirt, just imagine

It was in the tearoom at the British Museum

Ezra sat beside me with his hand on my thigh

Aldington across from me with if you can believe it

One elbow on the table while he reached below it

I was against a wall so nobody could see

And I was used to being petted by Ezra

It meant little to me ‘cept his hand went higher

Encountering Ezra’s hand inner thigh, o my

Excuse me I said Ezra says you write free verse

He’d withdrawn his hand, so Ezra explored further

So please show me and let’s have Ezra edit it

He needs something to do with both of his hands

I was quite stirred as he was so young and up for it

He plucked poems from pocket, asking did the trick

Ezra taking out his red pencil to correct

While my toe stroked Richard’s thigh finding his prick

Well, that’s how it’s scripted in our new play

He was nineteen she six years older

She was long legged he was still growing

We haven’t scripted the next scene yet

Dick Russell © Richard M Russell

                        2026