AFTERMATH — A FOUND SONNET

by Susan Vespoli

—all words in the poem from a KJZZ Interview with Tom Maxedon

Susan Vespoli and her book One of Them Was Mine

What happened? Officer Lindo shot my son

in the back of his head. Blew everything

apart. In the face of powerlessness,

we should say his name: Adam Vespoli.

 

Phoenix Police Department Disciplin-

ary Review Board: cop was found out 

of policy. Immediately resigned. Freedom 

of Information Act. Aftermath. Coping

 

with grief. A molten slosh of pain. Healing

thoughts and hearts. My son, a big believer. 

My mission, words in mouth, to be his voice. 

Lawsuit resolved. Financial settlement. 

 

The    policeman    is    no     longer 

a policeman. He’s driving a truck in Texas.

Susan Vespoli writes from Phoenix, AZ and believes in the power of poetry to create change.

UNIQUE RELIC OF THE OSLO PEACE ACCORD

a New Verse News erasure poem found 

in a Raab Collection email

document featuring signatures 
of primary signers and leaders 
in Arab-Israeli peace

acquired 
from one of the 
participants

on exhibit 
and for sale
at $35,000

WHY DO DOCTORS IGNORE THE CLITORIS?

a found poem by Diane Kendig

derived from the article “Half the World Has a Clitoris: Why Don’t Doctors Study It?” by Rachel E. Gross, The New York Times, October 17, 2022

Anatomy of the Clitoris and Penis—3D Model available from Etsy.

Compare the vulva

to a small town in the Midwest.

Doctors tend to pass through it

barely looking up

on their way to their destination,

the cervix and uterus.

If the vulva…is

an underappreciated city

the clitoris is

a local roadside bar

…a deep structure,

made up largely

of erectile tissue

reaching into the pelvis

encircling the vagina.

Documented injuries to the clitoris

could be prevented…

if doctors just spent more time

getting to know the clitoris,

…intimately bound up

in female pleasure and orgasm,

not high on medicine’s priority list.

[One urologist] recalled that

in medical training

the clitoris barely made

a cameo.

The medical textbook

Last’s Anatomy omitted

the clitoris entirely.

Descriptions of the penis went on for pages.

Diane Kendig is the author of five poetry collections. Her latest is Woman with a Fan. Her writing has appeared in J Journal, Wordgathering, The New Verse News, Valparaiso Review, and other journals. She ran a prison writing workshop in Ohio for 18 years, and now curates the Cuyahoga County Public Library weblog, Read + Write. 

QANON AND THE BUTTERFLIES

A Found Poem with the Species List of the National Butterfly Center

by Pepper Trail

Why did the National Butterfly Center in South Texas close last week? 🦋

Because of a conservative conspiracy, of course! @mehdirhasan brings you the troubling tale: pic.twitter.com/FLTzl14LeT

— The Mehdi Hasan Show (@MehdiHasanShow) February 8, 2022

In a country where many believe that Satan-worshipping pedophiles 

run the government and the resurrection of John F. Kennedy Jr. will 

 restore a Trump presidency, the Butterfly Center has become 

the latest unlikely victim of wild misinformation 

and outright lies spreading rapidly online.

 —The New York Times, February 6, 2022

 

How are we to make sense of this?

The Question Mark

 

Among the flowers are butterflies, only butterflies

The Monarch and the Soldier and the Queen

The Blue-eyed Sailor and the Painted Lady

The Dainty Sulphur and the Silver Emperor

 

All mingling together in peace

The Black Swallowtail

The Great Southern White

The Mexican Yellow

 

Outside the fence, all is fire and storm

The Malicious Skipper

The American Snout

The Fatal Metalmark

 

But here, can we not agree on beauty, at last?

            The Common Banner

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.

DOMESTIC

by Sister Lou Ella Hickman, I.W.B.S.

Words found in  Kate Chopin’s “The Story of an Hour.”

                                    love
                                                                    unsolved
                                                  elixir    
                                                                   blind
                                                  feverish
                                                                   imploring
                                                    traveled-stained
                                                                  stained traveled
                                   paralyzed          inability
                                            o
                                monstrous      joy
                                                                   that
                                                                   kills


Sister Lou Ella is a former teacher and librarian. Her poems have appeared in numerous magazines such as America, First Things, Emmanuel, Third Wednesday, and TheNewVerse.News as well as in four anthologies: The Night’s Magician: Poems about the Moon, edited by Philip Kolin and Sue Brannan Walker, Down to the Dark River edited by Philip Kolin, Secrets edited by Sue Brannan Walker, and After Shocks: The Poetry of Recovery for Life-Shattering Events edited by Tom Lombardo. She was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2017. Her first book of poetry entitled she: robed and wordless was published in 2015. (Press 53.)

JUST STAY CALM

a cento-haibun
by Ed Gold

It’s going to be just fine. We are doing an incredible job. Everything is under control. It’s just one guy coming in from China. We do have a plan, and we think it will be handled very well. That’s a pretty good job we’ve done! I said it would go away, and it will go away. Everything is totally under control. Looks like by April, you know, in theory, when it gets a little warmer, it miraculously goes away. Stock market starting to look very good to me! The flu is worse! Just stay calm, it will go away. One day, it’s like a miracle. It will disappear. We have handled it very well. I’m choosing not to wear a mask. It’s only a recommendation; it’s voluntary. So when we have a lot of cases, I don’t look at that as a bad thing. I look at that, as in some respects, a good thing because it means our testing is much better. Really, it’s a badge of honor. Some areas we thought may be gone, but they flared up, and we’re putting out the flames or the fires. This is the democrats’ new hoax! 99 out of 100 cases are totally harmless. It’s going to be just fine. We are doing an incredible job.

Just stay calm. One day,
It’ll be a miracle:
he will disappear.

Ed Gold has a chapbook, Owl, and poems in the Ekphrastic Review, TheNewVerse.News, Passager, Think, New York Quarterly, Kakalak, Window Cat Press, Kansas Quarterly, Cyclamens and Swords, Poet Lore, Rat’s Ass Review, Homonym Journal, and many others. For 15 years, he taught at the University of Maryland and now is a writer, editor, and writing trainer for various government agencies and large corporations. For the Poetry Society of South Carolina, he runs the Skylark contest for high school poets. Ed lives in Charleston with his wife, Amy Robinson, and their terrier, Edie.

HOLOCAUST TRAIN

a poem found in the words of Janina Iwanska

by Howie Good

Janina Iwanska, 89, is photographed in her Warsaw apartment. She was sent to Auschwitz after she was separated from her parents at the age of 14 during the Warsaw Uprising in 1944 when the Nazis laid siege to the city. She arrived at the death camp at the height of its exterminations, when the SS guards killed 330,000 people in a span of eight weeks. —Rob Schmitz/NPR, January 27, 2020

We were put into open train cars
and huddled together to keep warm.

When it snowed, we collected it
to drink, because they didn't give us

water. We were in such complete
solidarity that when one of us fell

asleep standing (there was no room
to sit or lie down) none of the others

would steal the snow that accumulated
on her. That snow belonged to her.

Howie Good is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.

CIVILITY AT THE RED HEN

found poetry by Diane Elayne Dees

Photo found by shauna @goldengateblond

Tell me what you want me to do.
Lock her up! ‘Cause—f*ck you—
that’s why! Journalist-Rope-Tree
T***p That Bitch. Jew-S-A!
I can ask her to leave. They said ‘yes.’
String her up! F*ck Your Feelings
Hang the bitch. F*ck those dirty beaners!
F*ck Islam! Kill her!

I’d like you to come out to the patio with me for a word.
F*ck that n**ger! Hillary is a whore
Light the Motherf*cker on fire!
Hillary is the Devil
Execute her!
I’d like to ask you to leave.

Diane Elayne Dees' poems have been published in many journals and anthologies. Diane, a semi-retired psychotherapist in Covington, Louisiana, also publishes Women Who Serve, a blog that covers women's professional tennis throughout the world.

SELF-REVELATION

found poetry by Diane Elayne Dees

I have the right temperament,

I try to learn from the past.

I thought being president

would be easier than my old life.

I'm an honest person, I thought

it would be easier. Bing bing,

bong bong, bing bing bing.

I have embraced crying mothers

who have lost their children

because our politicians put their personal

agendas before the national good.

I have a great relationship with the blacks;

I wouldn't mind a little bow.

Despite the constant negative press

covfefe, they don't know how to write good.

I know more about ISIS than the generals do;

why can't we use nuclear weapons?

I'm their worst nightmare, my fingers are long

and beautiful. Even if the world is going to hell

in a hand-basket, I won't lose a penny.

Who’s doing the raping?

Who's doing the raping?

Diane Elayne Dees’s poems have been published in many journals and anthologies. Diane, who lives in Louisiana, also publishes Women Who Serve, a blog that covers women’s professional tennis throughout the world.

IMPERATIVE ON FACEBOOK FROM NEIGHBOR WHOM I THOUGHT ONLY DISCUSSED THE WEATHER

Found Poem by Donna Hilbert

Really, Donna
Stick to art and poetry
Enough politics!
He’s the President
Get used to it!


Donna Hilbert is observing the collapse of free speech from Long Beach California.

WARDEN, MURDER ME

by Allyson Whipple

The following is a found poem based on “Last Words of the Condemned” by Celina Fang, Manny Fernandez, Amy Padnani and Ashwin Seshagiri in The New York Times, June 29, 2013.

Photos provided to the Times by the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.

I.

I wish I could die more than once

            to tell you how sorry I am.

I am the sinner of all sinners.

I deserve this.

            Tell everyone

                        I said goodbye.

Let’s roll. Lord Jesus

            receive my spirit.

I love all those on Death row.

            I will always hold them

                        in my hands.

II.

No one wins tonight.

            They are killing me tonight.

No one gets closure.

            They are murdering me tonight.

No one walks away victorious.

Let’s do it, man.

            Lock and load.

                        Ain’t life a bitch.

III.

Bury me deep, lay two speakers

            at my feet,

put some headphones on my head,

            rock and roll me when I’m dead.

I walked in here

            like a man.

I am leaving

            like a man.

It’s a good day to die.

I can feel it,

taste it,

not bad.

Allyson Whipple is the director of the Austin Feminist Poetry Festival and the author of We're Smaller Than We Think We Are (Finishing Line Press). Her work has most recently appeared in the 2014 Texas Poetry Calendar.