SMALLEST AREA COMPATIBLE

by Pepper Trail

Valley of the Gods in Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument. Dreamstime Photo by Paul Brady.

 

The President is to reserve "the smallest area compatible with the proper care and management of the objects to be protected." —The Antiquities Act of 1906

President Trump on Monday reduced the size of two national monuments in Utah by nearly 3 million acres, teeing up a legal battle over whether presidents have the power to shrink such sites in the first place. Mr. Trump signed two executive orders to sharply cut the Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monuments to less than 10 percent of their current size. Both sites are known for their sandstone canyons and vast mesas, which are rich in wildlife habitat as well as archaeological sites of importance to Native American tribes. —The New York Times, July 13, 2026

• A body, small, feverish with measles, crying into the hospital dark?
• An automobile, pinned to the curb, bullet-holed, its driver dead inside?
• The dancing-ground of desert grouse, scraped bare and sold for the oil beneath?

No, stick to this case:

A landscape unbroken but for the lines we draw

Canyons, plateaus, water and the channels it makes

Sagebrush and juniper, birds and lizards and deer

Marks etched on sandstone cliffs, testimony to other ways of being

 

A National Monument, “Bears Ears”

   named by the peoples who shared this land

Hoon’Naqvut, 

Shash Jaa’, 

Kwiyagatu Nukavachi, 

Ansh An Lashokdiwe

delineated by thousands of years of indigenous knowledge

thousands of pages of scientific analysis

thousands of voices raised for protection

 

or

 

slashed overnight by 90%

ignorance glorified

harnessed to political calculation and greed

 

The smallest area compatible with proper care and management?

• Our society, torn apart by division and violence?
• Our nation, sinking into a morass of corruption and tyranny?
• Our planet, hurtling toward unchecked climate chaos?

Decide

Pepper Trail is a poet and naturalist based in Ashland, Oregon. His poetry has appeared in Rattle, Atlanta Review, Spillway, Kyoto Journal, Cascadia Review, and other publications, and has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net awards. His collection Cascade-Siskiyou was a finalist for the 2016 Oregon Book Award in Poetry.

ROWING NORSE

by Craig Crowden

The Cup is ours for the taking.

Our lads are bent on brand building as

we row into the hearts of the world

heading for our colony of Vinland.

Our lads are bent on brand building as

we sail from a Fiord clad in Viking garb.

Heading for our colony of Vinland,

we score iconic team photos.

We sail from a Fiord clad in Viking garb

striking fear into football defenses,

we score iconic team goals

charming even those we sack.

Striking fear into football defenses,

we show Brazil a beautiful game

charming even those we sack,

turning vanquished foes into fans.

We showed Brazil a beautiful game.

We gave England all it could take

turning victorious foes into fans

Off we row home to a parade.

We gave England all it could take

leaving with class and respect.

Off we row home to a parade

while cleverly conquering Instagram.

Leaving with class and respect,

we row into the hearts of the world

while cleverly conquering Instagram.

The Cup is ours for the taking!

*

We row back home to

one hundred-fifty thousand

Norse fans—triumphant!

Hidden in Haaland’s raccoon

lies the heart of the World Cup.

Craig Cowden: As a Norwegian and a fan of the beautiful game, I was very excited when Norway made the World Cup field. Then they put on a master class in marketing starting with an extraordinary photo shoot from a Fjord in Norway. They backed this up with outstanding play reaching the quarterfinals earning respect across the world. They did it with class and lots of fun. I am very proud to be Norwegian.   

FROM THE HIDEOUSLY SMOKY MIDWEST

by Elizabeth Kerlikowske

I love my Canadian neighbors but…

 

At least during Covid we could step outside.

I resurrect my masks and wear them now

to water the puzzled garden, get the mail,

drag in the dumpster. Ash on squash leaves

ages them as surely as gray hair. My throat hurts.

Eyes sting and I’m breathing filtered air.

Exhausted squirrels lay in bird baths.

Deer stagger through the yard.

We keep water out for them,

not to breed mosquitos, nosy neighbor!

Sun a muffled peach pit in both skies.

Moon, overcome with particulate matter,

hides her face, throws scarves of stars

over her mouth to filter pernicious smoke.

Just guessing, since we no longer see her.

Elizabeth Kerlikowske’s latest chapbook is Falling Women, with painter Mary Hatch.

HALF-STAFF

by W. Luther Jett

W. Luther Jett's  poetry has been published in numerous journals, as well as several anthologies. Luther is the author of six poetry chapbooks — his most recent is  The Colour Wars, (Kelsay Books, 2024). His full-length collection, Flying to America was released by Broadstone Books in 2024. Luther is also a singer-songwriter who performs sporadically in wine-bars and cafes. He has released two singles and is in the process of recording an album of original material.

NIGHT STALKERS

by Kathyrn Ridall

The New York Times, July 16, 2026

2 AM,

loneliness a siren’s song,

a vampire’s kiss. I try

to remember how it felt

to be loved steadfastly

by my husband from the

moment we met until

he left this world.

A shiver in the night

and our 47th president appears—

a six-foot lizard, upright

with orange hair and a red

necktie, his tail a relentless

scythe that levels fields,

each day slashes the fragile

fruits of freedom.

My small dog senses

something outside

the house and launches

from the bed we share,

her barking a spray of bullets.

She wants to protect us

from creatures that bare

their teeth and stalk us

in the night.

AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News.

Kathyrn Ridall is a poet and non-fiction writer. She is the author of the recent poetry collection The  Living Waters Between Us and of the award-winning Dreaming at the Gates: How Dreams Guide Us. She lives in Ventura, CA where she works as a psychotherapist.

AN UNDESIRABLE SILENCE

by Katy Z. Allen

I first noticed it early in the morning, isolated orange rays of light passing between the trees, the unusual color catching my eye, and so I went looking for the Sun, hidden from sight, and stopped abruptly when I saw it, not far above the horizon, a deep orange disc in the foggy, hazy, cloudy sky. Later, stepping outside for a second time, the light was so strange and eerie it gave me the shivers. I thought a storm was coming, maybe even a tornado, for the feel of the air was foreboding, so I checked all three weather apps on my phone, but none said anything about rain. The unease remained with me as I journeyed from errand to errand, wondering why I had heard nothing, although to be honest I hadn’t gone searching beyond my weather apps, but each time I stepped out of the car I felt that unease and when at last I arrived home and checked my email I saw a subject line, “The sky looks ominous and the air quality is bad. When will it end?” and that was when I learned—perhaps having had my head in the sand for longer than I should have—about the latest wildfires across Canada and Minnesota and the smoke from those fires arriving on our doorstep, so to speak, here in New England, and at last I understood, but all day I’d been feeling the silence of an explanation and only when it was so bad that everyone would notice did some brief and insufficient explanation arrive. I don’t have my head so far into the sand to be fully unaware that as long as we’re not seeing it, we’re not hearing it, we’re not experiencing it, the fact that the world is on fire is greeted with silence, even though it is a deep, dark  heaviness that breaks our hearts and weighs us down, no matter what the color of the Sun as it rises above the horizon in the morning.

Katy Z. Allen is a lover of the more-than-human world, poet, retired rabbi of an outdoor congregation, former healthcare chaplain, and co-founder of a Jewish climate organization. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in print and online in such places as The New Verse News, Amethyst Review, The Bluebird Word, Cosmic Daffodil, The Soliloquist Journal and Art on the Trails: Number 9. She was awarded Honorable Mention in The Prose Poem’s 2025 Prose Poetry Competition, and her book, A Tree of Life: A Story in Word, Image, and Text was published by Strong Voices Publishing. 

TESTtosterone

by Darcy Grabenstein 

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced Wednesday that he is rolling out a new screening program for “testosterone deficiency” among troops, calling it necessary to allow them to operate at their “absolute best.” ...In the video, Hegseth simply refers to troops, though it appears he is talking about only testing men in uniform for hormone irregularities. AP, July 16, 2026

Pete HEgseth is proving 

that he’s a manly man, a HE-man
for he’s questioning the virility
of our men in uniform

After all, isn’t the true test of masculinity
taking advantage of under-age girls
or throwing punches in a UFC fight
or ICE goons slaughtering citizens?

Those in the good ole boys’ club
probably think that those with ‘low T’ 
would rather have high tea, pinkies raised
than shove a gun in the enemy’s face

Test for testosterone? Preposterous!

Here’s what and who we should be testing:
the IQ of our nation’s leaders
to determine whether they’re fit for office
not whether our troops are fit to serve

Excuse me. I’m about to have a fit.

A marketing writer by profession, Darcy Grabenstein turns to poetry as a creative and cathartic outlet. The theme of social (in)justice runs through many of her poems, and she longs for the day where her page will finally be blank.

A MURDEROUS STATE

by Indran Amirthanayagam

Cartoon by Clay Jones

This is State murder 

even if unintended, 

rammed wrong,

bullets fired 

at a migrant 

driving.

What safety does 

a seatbelt provide,

or an airbag, 

when you drive 

below the speed limit

while a bullet

flies through 

the window?

What safety 

measures 

are advised for 

the migrant driving 

on American roads? 

To give way 

to unmarked cars? 

To stop 

in the middle 

of the road 

and wait? 

What allows 

the plain-clothed 

gunman to shoot 

without asking 

for papers, 

or screaming 

into a bullhorn?

What are 

the circumstances

when witnesses 

are hounded, 

threatened 

with deportation?

What if there are 

no witnesses,

certainly no inconvenient

bodycam imagery? 

We are confronted 

by an extrajudicial 

killing force. 

They don’t leave 

traces. They will 

be protected. 

THE STATE’S ALL,  folks.

Indran Amirthanayagam writes a Substack. He has just published Isla itinerante ( Editorial Apogeo, Peru, 2025) and White Space Sonnets ( Sarasavi publishers, Sri Lanka, 2025). His other publications include El bosque de deleites fratricidas ( RIL Editores), Seer (Hanging Loose Press),The Runner's Almanac (Spuyten Duyvil), Powèt Nan Pò A: Poet of the Port (Mad Hat), and Ten Thousand Steps Against the Tyrant (Broadstone Books). He is the translator of Kenia Cano’s Animal For The Eyes (Dialogos Books) and Origami: Selected Poems of Manuel Ulacia (Dialogos Books). He edits The Beltway Poetry Quarterly, hosts the Poetry Channel on YouTube, and publishes poetry books with Sara Cahill Marron at Beltway Editions.

THE DEFINITION OF HARM

by Pepper Trail

AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News.

The Trump administration on Friday moved to open the habitats of imperiled animals to farming, drilling, mining, real estate development and other activities in what environmentalists characterized as the most severe erosion of protections for wildlife in half a century. It did so by recasting a single word, “harm.” For more than 50 years, the federal government has used a broader definition of harm to animals under the Endangered Species Act, a bedrock environmental law. It included any significant “modification or degradation” of habitat that kills or injures animals by impairing their ability to eat, shelter or breed... But on Friday, the Interior Department and the Commerce Department announced a final rule that rescinded this longstanding interpretation. Under the rule, destroying an endangered species’ nest or habitat would no longer be considered illegal. —The New York Times, July 10, 2026

Time passed and the madman continued.

Today it was to say the home, the whole living world –

I am speaking of you, the owl, the butterfly, the desert grouse—

is nothing, is to be taken, cleared, burned, drilled

and that has no consequence,

as the capture and disappearance of mothers and fathers,

that has no consequence,

as the end of relief for the dark-skinned dying,

that has no consequence,

as the meanings of words,

they have no consequence.

To the madman it is all a game,

made up every night, announced every morning,

changed every afternoon,

himself against the world, the only rule

being that he must never lose,

if only he knew how to win, to be satisfied.

And so everything is fed into the flames,

the beautiful world, the work of the best minds,

the lives of the children and the artists

and those who want only to live in peace,

because anything free of him

must be brought to heel, or

when that again,

when that always, fails,

must, he delares, be destroyed.

Pepper Trail is a poet and naturalist based in Ashland, Oregon. His poetry has appeared in Rattle, Atlanta Review, Spillway, Kyoto Journal, Cascadia Review, and other publications, and has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net awards. His collection Cascade-Siskiyou was a finalist for the 2016 Oregon Book Award in Poetry.

UNREAL REALITY

by Lynn White

unreal? reality?

Dead or alive,

seems it no longer matters.

Perhaps it never did.

And now AI is a perfect fit,

to get the job every time,

no live performance needed now.

And it was always a performance,

live or film or funny cartoon,

always staged,

unreal.

Dead or alive.

Perhaps some of it was once real.

Perhaps once it mattered.

Perhaps it still does,

real or unreal

reality

dead or alive.

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality and writes hoping to find an audience for her musings. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Peach Velvet, Light Journal, and So It Goes.