THE JOB INTERVIEW

by William Aarnes

AI graphic by NightCafe for The New Verse News

Want a Job in the Trump Administration? Be Prepared for the Loyalty Test. —The New York Times, December 7, 2024

The dinner was ample, pretty good,

the service obviously obsequious.

I had the third-best seat in the room,

at his table, just to his left, Musk on his right,

Melania nowhere in sight. He kept telling me

I was ideal for the office he had in mind.

I kept saying I’d do whatever he’d want.

How often did I repeat, “Just say the word”?

I heard myself echoing, “Got to innovate... got to disrupt...

got to get the government out of everybody’s way.”

Kind of glad I told that joke about my wife.

He didn’t laugh but showed his teeth.

I was all deference, nodding my head,

mumbling, “It would be an honor,”  

as he listed the scores I’d help him settle,

all the haters I’d help him put in jail.

He was pleased with himself, telling me again

I was the top guy for getting the government  

out of everybody’s way. Before turning back to Musk,

he said he was sure that I’d enjoy dessert.

William Aarnes lives in Manhattan.

DRONE SIGHTINGS REPORTED OVER NEW JERSEY

by Michael T. Young

They arrive as it gets dark and hover there
looming through night, leaving by morning. 
No one can explain them, not even those 
in official suits talking to the cameras. 
And for days before they were noticed
people dreamed of large bees pollinating
their minds like open flowers. But the memory 
of those wonderlands wilted in the mystery
that consumes their sleep. Now they spend 
their nights watching and listening,
the drone of their suspicions growing
larger than all the wishes on all the stars 
that they no longer wish on or even 
take notice of. It’s all about the drones
and why they’re hovering. Although, 
the exhaustion and fear is not
because their faults will be discovered, 
that we’re being watched—we already know 
there’s no place that does not see us, 
though Rilke never imagined it so literally 
as we do: cameras buried in Apollo’s hip, 
relaying messages about what we mortals 
are up to. No, we know we’re being watched
and by nothing numinous, but just people 
as flawed as we are, and just as mistaken as us 
that there are things we can keep to ourselves.

Michael T. Young’s fourth collection, Mountain Climbing a River, will be published by Broadstone Media in late 2025. His third full-length collection, The Infinite Doctrine of Water, was longlisted for the Julie Suk Award. He received a Fellowship from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts and the Jean Pedrick Chapbook Award. His poetry has been featured on Verse Daily and The Writer’s Almanac. It has also appeared in numerous journals including I-70, The Journal of New Jersey Poets, Rattle, and Vox Populi.

MELTING OF ARCTIC SEA ICE

by Ron Shapiro

    a

A polar bear stands on floating sea ice in the Arctic. The bears rely on sea ice to move throughout their hunting grounds. (Image credit: SeppFriedhuber via Getty Images via Live Science.)

'Ominous milestone for the planet': Arctic Ocean's 1st ice-free day could be just 3 years away, alarming study finds —Live Science, December 4, 2024

Another warning,

Red flags up in the scientific

Community, sea ice melting

Faster than an ice cube on

An Arizona day. Polar bears

Shifting their weight on legs

The size of tree trunks while

Balancing on the moving chunks

Of frozen water over a million

Years old. With each piece

Of ice shrinking over time,

How will the polar bear find

Food if he can’t travel far

From his glacier home?

 

Meanwhile, land torn up,

Only a commodity in a world

Based on capitalism. Imbalance

Between humanity and the earth

Causes the dis/ease of fear, anxiety

And consumerism. What comes

From the ground is a commodity,

Something to sell, to buy, to use up.

 

The air warms the melting masses

But so far away from here, how can

Anyone care about this? No plans

For the future. Carpe Diem without

The seizing. Brain rot eats away at

Sanity and intention. Useless images

And misinformation to distract, to

Entertain, to confuse. Abstract words

Populate the language resulting in

Generalization, stereotypes, prejudice,

Bias, and ignorance. Not enough time

To think. Only to react. Tik Tok goes

The Earth’s clock. The air polluted,

The breath compromised, the ice melting,

Polar bears weeping in a cold puddle

Of water swishing at their feet.

Ron Shapiro, an award-winning teacher, currently mentors college essay writing as well as teaches Memoir Writing through George Mason University. He has published writings in Nova Bards 23 & 24, Gatherings, Poets of the Promise, Poetry X Hunger, Minute Musings, Backchannels, Gezer Kibbutz Gallery, All Your Poems, Paper Cranes Literary Magazine and two chapbooks: Sacred Spaces and Wonderings. He lives with his wife and Shanti the Cat in Reston, Virginia.

GEORGIANS ON MY MIND

by Jacqueline Coleman-Fried

George Balanchine with, Mourka, his cat. Photo by Martha Swope (1964). NYPL Digital Collections, Image ID: 5120841

Police behind riot shields beat protesters facing Europe,

robed in Georgian flags, calling for new elections.

 

     Sometimes Russia moves with planes and tanks.    

     Sometimes it strangles slowly, so no one notices.

 

Cat floats around my home like a ballet dancer

waving her curved plume tail, padding on velvet paws.perfume, 

 

     Sinking on velvet paws, she pliés

     before jumping, leaping.

 

Choreographer Balanchine used to throw his cat

in the air and photograph her on the way down.

 

     Threw his cat in the air to watch her gymnastic grace.

     Taught his dancers to move like that.

 

Taught them, too, the perfume of Russian ballet.

Though his real name, Balanchivadze, was Georgian.

 

 

Jacqueline Coleman-Fried is a poet who lives in Tuckahoe, NY. Her work has appeared in The New Verse News, Nixes Mate Review, Streelight Magazine, Witcraft, and The Orchard Poetry Journal.

WITH CHILD

by Jan Chronister

Arizona for Abortion Access supporters carry photographs of women who died because of abortion bans during the 35th annual All Souls Procession—a two-mile long march for community members to honor ancestors and loved ones who have died—on Nov. 3, 2024, in Tucson, Ariz. (Mario Tama / Getty Images via Ms. Magazine)

Click to see "Rest in Power: A Running List of the Preventable Deaths Caused by Abortion Ban" by Roxanne Szal,  Ms. Magazine as of November 26, 2024.

At one time

being pregnant
was a dangerous
condition to be in.
 
I would have died
in childbirth like my 
grandmother
if I’d given birth
a hundred years ago.
 
My daughter, breach,
but barely six pounds.
Small enough
for the doctor to
reach in, position her
for delivery.
How would it have ended
without his help,
called in from fishing,
smoking a pipe.
 
My son’s cord
wrapped around his neck.
Intervention again.
A healthy baby boy is born.
 
The third time
I miscarried.
Doctors took care of me,
nuns ministered
to my soul.
 
No laws prevented them
from saving me.

Editor’s Note: Women NATIONWIDE can still receive safe, effective & affordable medication abortion services via the ASafeChoice Network of physicians. 

Jan Chronister splits her year between northern Wisconsin and southern Georgia. She has authored three full-length poetry collections and ten chapbooks. Her most recent is the fifth annual chapbook recounting the year through poems. Jan poetry appears in numerous print and online journals and anthologies. She also enjoys helping fellow poets publish their work.

LEVERAGED BY BRAIN ROT

by Mark Danowsky

Following a public vote in which more than 37,000 people had their say, we’re pleased to announce that the Oxford Word of the Year for 2024 is ‘brain rot’… ‘Brain rot’ is defined as “the supposed deterioration of a person’s mental or intellectual state, especially viewed as the result of overconsumption of material (now particularly online content) considered to be trivial or unchallenging. Also: something characterized as likely to lead to such deterioration”. —Oxford University Press, December 2, 2024

I remember the landscape 

before chatbots 

 

After all, it was

only two years ago 

 

My mind is a limited 

large language model 

 

I take in material

I share material

 

I forget if I took time

to synthesize the material 

 

My biases and missteps 

are not about extra fingers 

 

I fear The Paperclip Problem

less than I fear the race

 

This race has been trending 

towards the bottom 

 

We know major players 

but consider a dark horse 

 

It could all go sideways 

except for the 1%  

 

Meantime, we’re burning 

all available fuel 

 

The deafening buzz—endless 

noise on my mind

 

All I can talk about 

is what I consume 

 

While I remain aware 

I contain stories 

 

The storyteller in me

is trained by misdirection  

 

I mean the need to hold

irreconcilable truths 

 

While seeking the answer 

to some nebulous void within 

 

I know this brain rot

as a weak pulse 

 

I fear mediums 

and messages 

 

The troubling satisfaction 

of pulled attention 

My hacked mind 

knows susceptibility

 

Everything is content 

and I am a heavy user 

Mark Danowsky is Editor-in-Chief of ONE ART: a journal of poetry. He is the author of four poetry books. His fifth book, Take Care, is forthcoming from Moon Tide Press.

OUR LADY’S TRIUMPH

by Marilyn Peretti

Hot orange flame flew up 

melting lead and ancient trees

breaking hearts of Paris.

For eight hundred years

old oaks from vanished forests

served as roof timbers

but no longer able to withstand

the fires of hell, crumbled

to charred matchsticks, as

Our Lady’s backbone,

the vulnerable ridge pole,

tumbled into the holy nave.

                    • • •

A thin white thread 

of smoke rising at the Vatican

signals something new.

The disastrous stream of white smoke,

which roared rapidly to black

then to tongues of fire,

called out every craftsman from

the woodwork, their myriad of skills

rebuilding one great Cathedral,

now signaling Our Lady’s glory.

This poem was written in anguish at the time of the horrendous fire in Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, but has been modified to celebrate the gallant efforts of dedicated Parisians who carefully rebuilt their cherished centerpiece. Marilyn Woerner Peretti, from Chicago area, is Pushcart nominee, and celebrant of this French achievement! She happily recalls her visit to Paris and tour through this elegant structure.

DON’T MOURN THE THORNS

by Corey Weinstein

Did you smile, even laugh aloud,

A smirk tumbling out of simmering glee?

Yes I was among the first 26,743,226

to feel joy when Notre Dame burned,

A spire collapsed shooting fireballs

through the attic, crashing the crosses,

Yellow flames licked the towers

and tickled my giggle bone,

 

From what abominations the fire sparked?

Of what burnt and musty stench like earth

where children are buried unmarked?

Rats running from their snuggle spots,

The ancient rot to their liking,

Dirty sins in the Savior’s name purified

Plastic icons oozed and bubbled black,

and is the toxic smoke pleasing to God?

 

The grand Dame’s construction marked

two hundred years of persecution

of expulsion, return and expulsion.

Built on the bones and bank notes 

of two centuries of violation,

feeding off the destruction

and exile of the Jews.

 

I won’t be contributing to the Church

where kings were crowned,

Where the crown of thorns stands in state.

Ask me again when plans include

a health center for family planning

and care for survivors of priestly abuse.

 

My joy only muted by the despair of the faithful

and knowing the stinking thing will rise as before.

Corey Weinstein’s poetry has been published in Vistas and Byways, The New Verse News, Our California 2024, The Ekphrastic Review, Forum (City College of San Francisco), California State Poetry Society, Visitant, Abandoned Mine, Speak Poetry of San Mateo County, California State Poetry Society and Jewish Currents, and he wrote and performed a singspiel called Erased: Babi Yar, the SS and Me.  He has been an advocate for prisoner rights and founded California Prison Focus, and he led the American Public Health Association’s Prison Committee for many years. In his free time, he hosts San Francisco OLLI’s Poetry Interest Group and plays the clarinet in his local jazz band, Tandem, his synagogue choir and woodwind ensembles.

TRASH OF THE TITANS

by Steven Kent

Elon gladly goes where he goes—

Wait until these mammoth egos

Clash, two bigmouth bros turned bitter,

Trading shots on Truth and Twitter.

Point of fact: They're both a bore, so

One we loathe, the other more so.

Steven Kent is the poetic alter ego of writer and musician Kent Burnside. His work appears in 251, Asses of Parnassus, Light Poetry Magazine, Lighten Up Online, New Verse News, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Philosophy Now, Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry, Snakeskin, and Well Read. His collection I Tried (And Other Poems, Too) was published in 2023 by Kelsay Books.

EMAIL ADDRESS?

by Helen Buckingham

AI graphic from NightCafé

Helen Buckingham's work appears in journals and anthologies throughout the world, including Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years (W.W. Norton, 2013). Her most recent collection is Two Haiku Poets (Iron Press, 2023) on which she collaborated with fellow British poet Annie Bachini. It was awarded an Honorable Mention by the Haiku Society of America.