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XXXI. There Is Stoning and There Is Birding and There Is.

Updated: Dec 11, 2025

Note: This poem may appear misaligned on mobile devices.

Two birds, one stone. 

Efficiency's boast.

Two stones, one bird.    

Overkill at most.


To stone a bird…    

A biblical crime—


Little Larry asks    

why we say kill two birds    

when we'd never actually    

kill birds.


I tell him it's just an expression.


Larry asks what we're expressing.


One bird, two words:    

killed and time.


Stone-cold birder with binoculars raised.   

 Bird-brained stoner perpetually blazed.


There is stoning and there is birding and there is


Two birds, one stone:    

the economy we worship.

Two stones, one bird:   

  the truth of how we aim.


Father taught me to skip stones:    

how to feel the weight,    

find the flat side,    

let the wrist loosen    

to make one touch water five times  

before sinking.


Never mentioned birds.


Bird versus stone:    

the oldest of feuds.


To stone a bird is to forget    

you were also made of flight once,    

before you learned to carry    

pebbles in your fists,   

before proverb,    

before idiom,    

before the language    

that should make us weep.


One and two and bird and stone and    

stone and bird and two and one and...


I was never good with numbers.    

Keep forgetting what comes after one.    

Keep thinking two means twice,    

means again,    

means more,    

when really two just means    

you already lost count    

of the first.


Two birds, one stone…


Tonight I'll go home with two stones    

still in my pocket,    

worrying small moons in the lining.


One bird still punctuating the sky   

with its completely intact life.


Tomorrow, someone will ask    

what I accomplished.


I'll lie.    

Or tell the truth.


I'm not sure which is which anymore.


For what it’s worth,

-Charlene Iris



One thought at a time.

One truth at a time. 

Because some epiphanies stay with you.

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