AI

by Tricia Knoll

“So-called artificial intelligences do not undergo experiences, do not possess a body, do not feel joy or pain, do not mature through relationships and do not know from within what love, work, friendship or responsibility mean.” —Pope Leo XIV, Magnifica Humanitas

Under a roof of paper lanterns strung across Jogye Temple in downtown Seoul, a group of monks from the Jogye Order, Korea's largest Buddhist sect, sat across from a postulant awaiting a precept ceremony—except that postulant was the country's first humanoid robot to take part in the ritual. —The Korea Times, May 6, 2026

Summon billionaires. Lawmakers. Researchers. Have they felt confusion?  Must I warn the senior in memory care that her lovey robot dog may not really love her when her son is grateful it does not poop on her rug. Or should I thank the robots diving in Antarctica to assess the salinity, churn, and effect of wind on disappearing sea ice., those that replace cement on the ocean floor to encourage coral building. Or the one that assists in gall bladder surgery. Do I bow beside Gabi, the robot at the South Korean Buddhist Temple, who takes his vows wearing red robes among the hanging lanterns at his initiation ceremony. Asimov’s Zeroth law, the one that says the robot may not harm humanity. Who foresees all hues of harm? The Pope? The head of cultural affairs for Gabi’s order? What hand or eye guides the robot in the war machine?  In confusion, I am not alone. What robot holds my hand? With whom do I pray? 

Tricia Knoll is a Vermont poet who lives in the woods. She read Asimov a lot many decades ago.

THE POPE IS WEAK ON RHYME

by Michele Worthington

Phonics 1 for Young Catholics

maybe not when he writes in Italian

but when he says to Chicago and New York

“I have no fear I will continue to speak out loudly

 promoting dialogue ​and ⁠multilateral relationships

 among the states to look for just solutions to problems"

even line breaks do not help.

 

There is no meter, no music, 

no molecules of pleasure

just temptation to take

bread and wine

from churches 

cake and champagne

from tiny yachts.

 

Jesus rhymes with GPS,

but Christ,

that is hard

to slide into a rebuke.

 

Still, when on the papal plane

to Istanbul and Beirut

flying above stolen paradise

above lake shores sacrificed      

Leo says

Too many people are suffering

Too many people are suffering

I do believe he

sees us.

Michele Worthington lives enclosed in urban sprawl in Tucson but escapes to hike the Sonoran desert often and the Adirondacks every summer. Her photography and words have appeared in several online journals and in print in Sandcutters, Anomaly Poetry, and Nature of our Times anthology. She has been a finalist for Arizona Matsuri, Tucson Haiku Hike and Tucson Festival of Books literary awards.

THE GOLDEN MESSIAH

by Royal Rhodes

 

 

Cartoon by Nick Anderson

Some urge Amendment 25
that  grows more needed, day by day,.
We watch his polling take a dive.

He altered course from a backlash.
His cult found posts in horrid taste.
This grifter feared a drop in cash.

Then Trump reviled the Catholic Pope,
who asked: "Would Jesus bomb and kill?"
and begged for peace, while seeking hope.

But Trump in jest—was it a joke?—
claimed Leo never would be Pope,
'til Trump blew up some Holy Smoke.

Like Stalin (in an iffy tale)
asked if Rome had armed Divisions,
in fear morality prevail.

And Trump, the MAGA's New Messiah,
depicts himself as Jesus' twin,
and casts peace-makers as pariahs.

It's on Truth Social (what a gaffe):
Trump's divine for Right-Wing Christians,
whose beef comes from a Golden Calf.

 

 

Royal Rhodes is a poet whose poems have appeared in numerous literary journals, including several times in The New Verse News. 

DAILY BREAD

by Karen Warinsky

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread: Feeding the 5000, relief on the door of the Grossmünster, Zurich, Switzerland.

Pope Leo XIV has condemned the “barbarity” of the war in Gaza and the “indiscriminate use of force” as Gaza’s civil defence agency said at least 93 Palestinians had been killed queueing for food and Israel issued fresh evacuation orders for areas packed with displaced people. —The Guardian, July 20, 2025

Give us this day our daily dose

of violence and war

hunger and strife

that we may see clearly

how the people in charge

truly view others, treat others,

casting their nets

not for sustenance

but to trap us all 

in their ill-imagined world,

how our struggle to untangle the truth

is worthy and righteous.

 

Bake the bread of this poem

with sunflower seeds and sifted flour

yogurt, eggs and oil,

with love, hope,

virtue and decency.

May it counteract the poisonous actions

of mad governments

as they seek their ends with any means

trampling on innocents

born in an unfortunate place

living in a fraught time

caught in an ancient conflict,

whose only crime

is a desire to preserve themselves

with the staff of life.

Karen Warinsky  has published poetry widely since 2011. She is the author of four collections: Gold in Autumn (2020) and Sunrise Ruby (2022 Human Error Publishing,) Dining with War (2023 Alien Buddha Press) and Beauty & Ashes (Kelsay Books, 2025). Her poem “Mirage” won first place in the 2024 Ekphrastic Poetry Trust, she is a 2023 Best of the Net nominee and a former finalist of the Montreal International Poetry Contest. Warinsky coordinates Poets at Large, a group that performs spoken word in MA and CT.