Be The Change
On the Ordinary Pitfalls of AI
For all the talk of Artificial Intelligence one day becoming super-intelligent and ending humanity, a more ordinary--and more pernicious--dynamic is very much here.
Be The Change
61 posts
Be The Change
The Rooftops of Kyiv
On the rooftops of Kyiv we master the circle dance, the feel of wood that can still support our weight.
America on the Brink
In Times Like These
In times like these I clean the gutters monthly and the lint trap every day;
America on the Brink
Bravery
This is a time for bravery. Not the human-cannonball kind. Not the free-diver nor the free-soloist.
America on the Brink
Pre-Flight Checklist
Keys, wallet, phone. The Collected Works of Federico García Lorca. Moleskin journal and ballpoint pen. Mahogany chess board, Rubik's Cub,...
America on the Brink
October 1, 2025
I am awakened too early. I cannot be awake. The growl of my neighbor’s leaf-blower is what prehistoric man, cowering in his cave, cowered from. How do you forgive your neighbor?
America on the Brink
Nostalgia
Remember when bumper stickers read Free Tibet or End Apartheid, and we agreed? Remember when there was just one war on TV, like a movie whose plot you knew by heart?
Be The Change
Silence
Last night I caught a dole of doves robbing me of sleep with their yapping. They accused me of such terrible things—an oppressor of birds...
America on the Brink
Lottery
For once, I throw my lot in with the rest. At the bleak store that sells tobacco and liquor, two bucks buys me this slip that feels sinful and foolish in my hands...
America on the Brink
Leaves of Grass
I abhor the grass, the leaves that turn to blades under the whetstone of heat, the worms, blind and desperate and slippery, that wriggle forth in the wet, the sucking of mud on bare feet...
Be The Change
What AI Still Can't Do
Write a poem that drops me to my knees. Strike me square in the face with a fist of birdsong. Torture me to orgasm with silk.
Be The Change
Picnic, America, 2025
Wrapped in moss like a layer of new skin over a third-degree burn, the hills invite us for a picnic. Rain has washed out the stains..