Review of Collateral Damage

Collateral Damage: Literary Biographies by Virginia Aronson is a keeper.

As explained in the Introduction, the poems in this collection focus on some well-known poets who have caused suffering and suffered themselves. Each poem is narrated by the poet, or a lover, spouse, muse or other intimate. Having read Smiling Little Hooks, her biographical poems related to Sylvia Plath, I knew she was up to the challenge. Aronson keeps her empathy ability set on eleven.

Now add her well-honed poet’s eye, a filter through which she renders powerful metaphors and depth perception. Her poems lay out what happened in the lives of these revered authors and those descriptions are smoothly linear yet have the unexpected potency of seemingly harmless cocktails: Long Island Iced Tea, Cosmopolitan, Mai Tai.

I don’t want to give them all away but here are some favorite zingers: 

In a poem speaking for T.S. Eliot’s first wife, she writes: And when living is done/ he told me one firey night/ he would like his bones/ flung into my grave.

Speaking for Robert Lowell’s widow: It’s the worst to see/ a man, a woman, an estate/soaked in the black suds/of disaster and sold off/ to help pay off/ debt, help, rooms/rented out while I wrote/of the abyss he fell in/without me.

For Anne Sexton’s therapist she channeled this: I was the one who/ she later wrote/ walked from breakfast/ to madness at the sad hotel / while she raged in her own/ glass bowl…

And for Dylan Thomas’s wife:  Drink was his temporary escape/ from the slavery of his calling/ there was no escape/ for me/ from Dylan/ his werewolf heart/ full of black blood/ until he died/ from drink.

It seems a familiar story: when mortals follow muses down that path—be it writing, making music, painting…other forms of self-expression, the ride can be rocky and fraught with collateral damage.

# # #

Tim Bryant’s has two published novels, Blue Rubber Pool (2018) and The Bird in Your Heart: A Carolina Sea Island Story (2023) with a third, The Stained Glass Mustang, scheduled for publication in May of this year through Unsolicited Press.

Virginia Aronson’s Collateral Damage: Literary Biographies is available here.

What Happens to the Brain When We Stop Asking Questions

Questions are the engine of thought. Long before formal education, before language becomes refined, the human brain develops through inquiry. A child’s first intellectual act is not knowing but asking. Every “why” reshapes neural pathways, stretching the mind toward understanding.
When questions disappear, the brain does not simply become quiet. It changes.

The Neurological Silence
Cognitive research suggests that curiosity activates multiple regions of the brain simultaneously, particularly those associated with memory formation and long-term learning. When questioning stops, these networks weaken. The brain shifts from exploration to maintenance.
This transition is subtle. There is no sudden loss of intelligence. Instead, thinking becomes economical. The mind favors familiar patterns, pre-existing explanations, and mental shortcuts. Efficiency replaces depth.
Over time, this efficiency hardens into rigidity.

From Curiosity to Certainty
Certainty is often celebrated as intellectual maturity. In reality, premature certainty is frequently a sign of cognitive closure. When individuals believe they already know enough, the brain reduces its tolerance for ambiguity.
Questions feel unnecessary, even threatening.
This state is psychologically comfortable. It reduces mental effort and emotional tension. But comfort comes at a cost: the gradual erosion of adaptability. Without questions, the brain stops rehearsing alternative perspectives. It no longer simulates possibilities.
It merely confirms itself.

The Educational Effect
Many educational systems unintentionally accelerate this process. Students are trained to ask questions that lead to answers, not questions that challenge assumptions. Over time, inquiry becomes transactional: a means to a grade, not a tool for understanding.
Once formal education ends, questioning often ends with it.
The brain, no longer required to explore, defaults to repetition. Ideas become recycled rather than re-examined. Intellectual growth slows—not because capacity is lost, but because it is no longer exercised.

Cognitive Aging Without Age
One of the most overlooked consequences of abandoning questions is premature cognitive aging. This is not a biological condition, but a mental posture. The brain begins to behave as though change is a threat rather than a resource.
Learning becomes defensive. New information is evaluated not for truth, but for compatibility with existing beliefs. This is how intelligent minds become closed without realizing it.
Not through ignorance—but through certainty.

Why Questions Matter More Than Answers
Answers stabilize knowledge.
Questions destabilize it.
And destabilization is necessary for growth. Questions force the brain into active negotiation with reality. They reopen closed circuits, reintroduce uncertainty, and demand reinterpretation.
In this sense, questioning is not a sign of weakness or indecision. It is a neurological act of resistance against stagnation.

Conclusion
When we stop asking questions, the brain does not stop working—it stops evolving. Thought becomes predictable. Understanding becomes shallow. Intelligence turns inward and feeds on itself.
The most dangerous moment in intellectual life is not when we do not know enough, but when we believe there is nothing left to ask.

Ashes in the Dry Garden

The rain remembers nothing,

It weeps dust, grain by grain,

As Time buries its face in sand,

The sky, concave and breathless,

Is a priest without a sermon.

The grass prays in brittle tongues

 Beneath a ferrous sun,

Thorns rehearse old rites,

Where roots renounced the covenant of earth.

Buds dissolve in the womb of stillborn hours.

The path no longer pretends,

A threshold breathes but has no door,

A window mourns, clothed in the linen of neglect,

Shadows press their faces to the glass,

And broken panes echo footsteps never returned.

Leaves fall like confessions,

Not from boughs, but from clocks,

Whose hands no longer grasp meaning,

Rust speaks the liturgy of loss,

Iron forgets its shape,

And corrosion writes the gospel of forgetting.

Smoke, the incense of wasted time,

Rises from hours sacrificed to absence,

Walls whisper in crumbling syllables,

Not shattered by war,

But worn by the sighs of the unseen.

Among the ash:

A mother’s breath embalmed in plaster,

A child’s gaze fossilized in soot,

An old man’s dream folded,

In the envelope of an oxidized memory.

And the silence,

The silence chants,

I am the shape of what was thought,

The breath between two centuries,

The echo of a name unspoken.

When All Remains But Thee

The lamps still burn with contemplative fire,

Their golden tongues untouched by grief or pyre,

The meadows don their emerald attire,

Yet none lament, none long, none tire.

The birds unfold their morning psalm with grace,

Their wings inscribe soft hymns across the space,

The bells still toll where sacred echoes fall,

Yet none recall thy voice, none heed thy call.

The paths remain where once our steps were laid,

But Time has brushed thy footprints into shade,

The leaves lift birds to sky’s cathedral 

dome,

While travelers pass as though they’re heading home.

O Memory! close thy weeping, sleepless eyes,

Unclench thy hand from what beneath it lies,

Let Past recede into the breathless hush,

Its mournful dirge now but a dying hush.

For all remains unchanged, complete in tune,

The morning glows, the breeze retains its rune,

But thou, O friend art not in any place,

Not in the sun, the wind, the stars, or space.

In The Shade Of Seeking 

In blissful torment I sought smiling tears,

Seeking sorrow’s shade in sunshine’s shimmer,

Dark veils of anguish dimmed each golden dawn,

My eyes hunted shade in the arms of radiance,

An eternity dissolved under one teardrop’s weight,

O Pain, thou cruel artist, you inked my time,

A quiet absence visits my inward skies,

Loud silence nests in the heart’s vacant throne,

And chases shadows across the desert of longing,

In endless alleys, I seek echoes of essence,

The path is a relic of a vanished presence,

The dust knows my quest better than my lips,

I seek the trace ‘I seek the trace,

And I walk, and I yearn, and I call,

O nameless echo, art thou memory or prophecy?

Who moans in the dome of my soul’s roam?

In the Veins of Mist

Beyond the veil were dust and mist alone,

A traveller was I, yet journey there was none,

The tale once bound by threads was bore of grief,

Though paths bended beneath celestial turns.

I walked through clocks that melted into breath,

Where roads were stitched from shadows of desire,

Each turn revealed a mirror with no face,

Each milestone sang but vanished into fire.

Ideas rained like feathers made of glass,

Breaking soundlessly on the floor of thought,

I sought the ones who dwelled behind my eyes,

But found them drowning in a glass of haze.

No sorrow wept beneath the laughing moon,

I moved, yet floated in a static sea,

Time wore a cloak of whispering spectral wings,

And space knelt quiet at memory ‘s rusted gate.

The spring I chased turned into mirrored smoke,

And kissed the void with incandescent flames.

My river slept inside a cave of wind,

No wave disturbs the mirror of my stream.

No voice, no flame, no herald of the dream,

No beacon flares, no shore, no destiny,

No wave stirs forth within my silent sea,

In endless pursuit my compass turned to mist.

In the orbit of seeking lost my compass,

Diverts in the agony of smouldering path,

Each step dissolves into a vow forsaken,

And vanishes beneath eternity’s breathless veil.

A Vigilant Soul Awaits

A solemn vigil stirs the soul’s deep core,

Veiled fire beneath humanity longs to roar,

An ancient cry breathes through the folds of thought,

Time’s hush prepares the truth ,the seers sought.

The soul desires clouds ablaze with peace,

Tranquility draped in celestial, silent release,

Is a sacred phrase to light the mind’s domain!

And whisper grace through reason’s rich refrain.

For centuries I’ve thirsted for one stream,

A draught to heal the wounds of dream,

A pilgrim bearing thought’s illumined flame,

I name the stars yet shun all fame.

Let peace arise on wisdom’s tempered wing,

Let every soul in silent union sing,

Let truth be refuge for the bruised and torn,

And tyranny die where light is born.

A day shall come when division’s veil shall fall,

One voice shall echo in the hearts of all,

Those drunk on power shall at last descend,

Marked by the time their might cannot defend.

 The Role of Women in the Development of Society

     The development of society is shaped by the harmonious interaction of various social forces, among which the role of women holds a particularly significant place. Women are not only the foundation of family life but also key contributors to the moral, social, and economic progress of society. History and modern experience alike demonstrate that societies in which women are respected, educated, and actively involved tend to develop more steadily and sustainably.                

One of the most fundamental contributions of women to societal development lies in the upbringing of future generations. From early childhood, values such as honesty, responsibility, compassion, and respect for others are largely instilled through maternal guidance. A mother’s level of education, awareness, and worldview directly influence a child’s intellectual growth and moral character. Therefore, investing in women’s education is, in essence, an investment in the future of society. An educated woman contributes to the formation of an enlightened and responsible generation.

       In the contemporary world, women’s roles extend far beyond the boundaries of the household. Today, women are actively engaged in education, science, healthcare, culture, entrepreneurship, and public administration. Their participation in these fields brings diversity of thought, innovation, and a strong sense of social responsibility. Women’s dedication, patience, and ability to approach challenges from a holistic perspective significantly enhance the quality and effectiveness of social and professional institutions. 

     Women also play an increasingly important role in economic development. Through entrepreneurship, small business initiatives, and leadership in various industries, women contribute to job creation and economic stability. Their involvement in economic activities strengthens household incomes, reduces poverty, and promotes sustainable growth. In many cases, women-led enterprises prioritize social responsibility, community development, and ethical business practices, which further benefit society as a whole.

     Furthermore, women’s active participation in social and political life is essential for ensuring social justice and equality. When women’s voices are included in decision-making processes, policies tend to better reflect the needs of all members of society. Women often draw attention to critical issues such as education quality, healthcare access, child welfare, and social protection. Their perspectives help address societal challenges with greater empathy and long-term vision.

     To fully realize women’s potential, it is crucial to create equal opportunities for them in all areas of life. Access to quality education, freedom to choose a profession, and the right to express opinions without discrimination are fundamental conditions for genuine progress. Supporting women is not merely a matter of fairness; it is a strategic necessity for sustainable development. Societies that empower women benefit from higher levels of innovation, stability, and social cohesion.

     In conclusion, the role of women in the development of society is invaluable. Educated, confident, and active women contribute to social harmony, economic growth, and moral advancement. A society that values women and enables them to fully realize their abilities lays a strong foundation for continuous progress and a prosperous future.

Ismoilova Jasmina Shavkatjon qizi was born on May 2, 2009, in Navoi Region, Uzbekistan. She is currently a 10th-grade student at Secondary School No. 20, located in Qiziltepa District of Navoi Region. She actively participates in the educational process and consistently demonstrates strong academic engagement. During her studies, she has achieved notable success in various fields. In December 2025, she obtained a B+ level certificate in Mother Tongue and Literature. In August 2025, she was awarded the nomination “Best Reader”, and in the same year, she became the holder of nearly 50 international certificates.

In addition, she was elected as a leader in the “Girls’ Academy” direction during the Children’s Movement Leaders’ Election, where she received a One-Star Certificate of Trust. She has also won first and third places in various essay competitions. Moreover, she is a member of the Argentine Association of Science and Literature Writers, holding an official membership certificate.

A Simple Girl
One day, a girl was born.
She was an ordinary person.
Like everyone else.
Years passed.
She grew up.
She was lost in her dreams.
She said, “I can’t do anything.
I can’t do anything.
I’m not good at anything.
I’m on the screen.
I’m famous.
I want to be.
But how can I do it?
I don’t have any knowledge.
I’m not even good-looking.
I can’t do it.
My parents aren’t rich.
” My father may be dead
My mother is sick
And I am injured
Crying and sobbing
She walked
One day in the newspaper
She read a sentence:
“ACT DON’T GIVE UP
IF IT’S DONE TO YOU
THIS JOB SHOULD BE YOURS”
The girl was inspired by this
A feeling that she could succeed
Woke up in her
Despite her age, she kept studying
Even if her peers
Even if they gossiped
The neighborhood
Even if her father
Stood up and stood up
She kept studying without paying attention
She learned a language
Wrote poems
For the first time
The poem she published

The people liked
She had many professions
She had
Many professions
The guy who humiliated her yesterday
Today asked for help came
I’m sorry
He begged the girl
Many
Rich men
Standing for her
Yesterday I’m not beautiful
The girl who said I can’t do it
Today was completely different
YOU CAN DO IT TO
TAKE ACTION
SHOW TO THOSE WHO SAY YOU CAN’T DO IT.!!!

Fazilat Khudoyberdiyeva. Born on September 2, 2013. She is in the 6th grade of secondary school No. 6 in Kokdala district, Kashkadarya region, Republic of Uzbekistan. She is interested in English, chemistry, and biology. Her hobbies are drawing, dancing, and singing.

WINDMILLS INDICTED!

“Windmills are killing all of our beautiful Bald Eagles.”
— Trump’s Truth Social post 12/30/25

Windmills are evil. Our goal:
replace all wind power with coal.
Send men fit and fine
back into the mine.

Black lung and black air? Profit’s toll.
This photo proves eagles get hurt.
It shows one dead bird in the dirt.
A falcon, it’s true—

From Israel’s news…
Trump sounds an off-target alert.

Copyright 12/2025 Patricia Doyne

WHILE FOUNDERS WATCH

Our Founding Fathers have been keeping watch

as 13 colonies transformed to states—

with standing armies, income tax, and parks,

OSHA, public schools, and Medicare…

They watch big bucks turn news to entertainment.

Now who will challenge power with the truth?

Our Founders watch the Constitution twisted—

Watch elections undermined by lies.

Watch a mob attack the Capitol—

then watch as insurrectionists are pardoned.

Watch a rich, convicted felon seize

another term, fill offices with minions.

It took 250 years to build

this country– torn apart in six short months. 

Here’s wish list for our country’s health–

a starting point if Congress grows a spine,

resists what Project 2025

is smashing to smithereens with its blunt axe.

1^st wish—dismantle ICE and all its tactics.

Lawless private troops with masks and guns

are hallmarks of a dictator. Those seized

deserve due process. Charges must be proved.

A brown face isn’t grounds for deportation.

No one thrives when everyone’s afraid.

Wish 2—throw out those trappings of Versailles:

walls polka-dotted with gold curlicues,

golden garlands, gewgaws, bric-a-brac–

conspicuous consumption at cringe-level. 

The White House wasn’t meant to be a palace;

the President wasn’t meant to be king. 

3^rd wish—send Putin packing; he’s no friend.

But Trump admires dictators, sees strength

where others see a predatory weasel.

So Putin plays Trump like a violin,

might let him build a Trump Tower in Moscow.

And Ukraine’s now a fighter on the ropes.

4^th  wish—stop branding everything. He’s named

warships, web sites, programs for himself.

“The Trump Peace Center” whitewashes the fact

that Netanyahu dines at Mar-a-Lago, 

and Presidential whims spur acts of war. 

He seeks more worlds to conquer, and re-name.

This wish list could go on and on and on.

Our Founders’ overriding wish is this:

refocus government so people’s needs

matter more than making rich folks richer:

Of the people, by the people, for the people.

While Founders watch, a revolution simmers…

Copyright 1/2026                  Patricia Doyne

DOMESTIC TERRORISM

One campaign promise haunts us these dark days:
deport immigrant killers, rapists, thieves—
a lofty goal, that ICE somehow achieves
at schools, Home Depot parking lots. Displays
of gangland tactics—masks, guns, unmarked cars—
help ICE kidnap, get rid of hapless prey,
with VISAs or without. Wimp laws delay
slamming brown-skinned quotas behind bars.
You arm a bunch of thugs—above the law,
and Feds, so they outrank the local cops—
and someone soon will do something so raw
it sparks a backlash. Video footage pops:
white citizen, unarmed, shot in the face.
So who’s the terrorist? A clear-cut case.

Copyright 1/2026 Patricia Doyne

After All the Fairytales

After all the fairytales,
I want the language of the world to change.

Let the crow caw with the sound of good news,
Let there be well-wishes in the cat’s voice.
May the barks of dogs become melodious songs,
Let the lonely Shakil find his tribe again…

Let the pitch-black roads become
Mountain streams, flowing as waterfalls.
Let the humans turn into fish,
Or, let them fly as honeybees.
May the language of sparrows become universal,
Let flocks of parrots be seen
In the morning, noon, and evening.

Let the airplanes, like white gulls,
Build their nests on Sumatra Island.
Let there be friendship between stone and rain,
Let them promise each other—no more hailstorms.
Let butterflies see the moon in the land of ice.
From the body of the wolf or the desert bear,
Let the fragrance of heaven drift.
Let the tiger’s roar be like the hum of a bee—
Fearless, ageless, and spontaneous.

After all the fairytales…
Let the world belong to the bees or the fish alone.