Friday, November 17, 2023

 Love in the Morning


love in the morning should be discreet
lest children wake leave things incomplete
while red wing blackbirds trill saltmarsh questions
and a quince sprig touches the window sill

in the quiet of early morning when pollen
settles dry and dusty kiss her soft cheek
tenderly caress inside her night dress
often the sheet rucks where the bee sucks 

strong love on a soundless wooden frame fir bed
at one with the high tide and the rising sun
strong love rolling over still mounted still wed
at one with the morning and song birds calling



Richard M Russell (C) Dick Russell
                             2023

Thursday, November 16, 2023

 Looking at a Picture



Some things are best left buried, 
lest they awake and cry for help
unlike paving stones unearthed 
that the previous owner laid.
Home-made premixed cement 
poured into square wooden frames, 
shaped by wooden two by fours,
that Romans might have made,
when electricity was the shock, you got, 
touching another's skin,
and rumor was what gossips traded in.

Invasions of the undead,
some memories my brain's 
earmarked for examination, again, 
like pop ups, preempting a screen. 
What could I pay my brain to stop
this ceaseless campaign it's waging?
Moments it's tagged to display
at any time of day, visions
that make me pause, suddenly stunned,
to be reminded sometimes shamed
looking at a picture my brain has framed.



Richard M Russell (C) Dick Russell
                        2023












Thursday, November 9, 2023

 There's a lie embedded in AI



I asked Alexa to explain an answer
they told me truth is a sliding scale
not true or false but somewhere in between
it's all based on inferencing, you see, they said
those that programmed Alexa, neither all male, or female 

"What's inferencing?", I said.
"Using statistics to compute," they said.
"How's that?", I said.
"When chatbots don't know, they infer."

In other words, they guess
lies propagate inference after inference,
and just like Mark Twain said Disraeli said:
there's lies, damn lies, and then there's statistics.

There's a lie at the heart of AI
that's almost true, but still a lie, 
embedded in AI.


Richard M Russell (C) Dick Russell
                          2023

Thursday, November 2, 2023

Poem: 555

In 1939 the crew of a Polish submarine sailed their vessel across the Baltic into internment in Sweden...later they escaped & sailing submerged reached Britain where they joined the free Polish armed forces...

his hands lay among the napkins
that lay among the dishes
& the six silver forks
that were shaped like a star

as gelignite sweats
his hands were glistening   inside his head
a thirty year clock had almost run down

he told of the voyage of 14 Polish sailors
in an interned submarine
from Stockholm to Scapa Flow

he had filled the boat with fuel
carried through the dockyard in dark glass bottles
he had re-charged the batteries
& made the parts
that the neutral Swedes had taken

he said each man was decorated for valor
although the vessel was sunk
afterwards in Northern waters

& after the plates had been taken
& the second bottle served
the first bottle taken
the brandy ordered
his hands lay uncurled on the table
amongst six silver forks
that were shaped like a star


Dick Russell
(from Wolfprints, 1971, Workshop Press Ltd. London)

555 Battersea Park Road is now a Sushi restaurant in London.  Fifty years ago, it was simply the "555" and Stanislaus was the chef.  He and his Irish wife served great meals and my friends and I ate there often.  On one occasion he joined us at our table and told his story.

Wednesday, November 1, 2023

Hanging Magic Lanterns


neurons are magic lanterns
illuminating dark matter
energizing enquiry
igniting other lanterns

lamps light up
past becomes future
signposts mislead
into amazement

surprised by stealth
shriveled by light
warmed by darkness
the answer is there

go figure.



             Dick Russell
Richard M Russell (C) 2023

Words Offered to AI                            For Jorie Graham A Work in Progress 55 italic words on thin almost transparent onion skin pap...