CIRCE'S BLESSING

by Ralph Culver

#Werepig Doodle by Ariane Hofmaniyar.

—for Marie Yovanovitch and Fiona Hill

Cruelty, greed, indifference to others—
these were men, abject one minute
in their pursuit of power, and
obsequious the next
in their fawning adoration
for those who achieved it, often at
their own expense, and worse if
their lives had been spared in the quest.
These were men; this is what men do.
And when she turned to them

and changed them, into swine, jackals,
any form that crept or flew
or crawled but could not speak
with a man’s corrupted tongue,
they had settled into the new shapes
she had given them and,
more often than not, they were thankful.
In fact, for the most part, they
did not want to go back to being men.
It was safe to say they had seen enough.

Here’s the deal: it’s not an intervention
if it’s what you’ve been begging for.
Like most women, whether the woman
knows it or not, whether or not
she wants to know, she understood them
better than they understood themselves.
She was doing them a favor. Such relief
to be the condor, the vulture, that covets
carrion and seeks it out, but calling
to his own, and sharing the spoils.

Ralph Culver's most recent collection of poems is So Be It (WolfGang Press, 2018). His work has appeared in many journals and anthologies. He is a past grantee in poetry of the Vermont Arts Council and multiple nominee for the Pushcart Prize. His book A Passible Man is forthcoming from MadHat Press in 2020.

I WANT NOTHING

a found poem by Donald J. T***p

I want nothing.
I want nothing.
I want no
quid pro quo.
Tell Zellinsky (sic)
to do the
right thing.
This is the
final word
from the Pres
of the U.S.

Donald J. T***p has sold steaks, vodka, mortgages, university degrees, bottled water, and vitamins, and put his name on a travel agency, airline, board game, and magazine among other failed enterprises. This is his first published poem as far as we know . . . well, maybe not even his first.

THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT AN IMPEACHMENT DEFENSE

by Edmund Conti

13 or so Republican whitebirds.

I
Among the Carpathian Mountains
The only moving thing
Was Hunter Biden.

II
I was of three minds
Like a Congress
In which there are Republicans, women and blacks.

III
The blackbird whistled in the autumn winds.
Someone find out who he is.

IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A quid and a quo and a blackbird
Are one.

V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blower whistling
Or just after.

VI
Reporters filled the White House
Listening,
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood?
The blackbird cackled
Indecipherable caws.

VII
O thin men of CNN,
Why do imagine golden birds?
Do you not see the corruption?
Where is my lawyer?
Rudy. Rudy. Rudy!

VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
A beautiful phone call when I hear one
Is what I know.

X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light
I cry out for a red light
To stop everything.

XI
He rode over Connecticut Avenue
In his limousine,
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The Washington Wizards
For blackbirds.


XII
The river is moving.
Get over it!

XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The Democrats sat
Waiting.


There are many ways of looking at Edmund Conti’s poetry. Right side up is best

SHE'S GOING TO GO THROUGH SOME THINGS

by Alan Walowitz

Marie Yovanovitch at the impeachment inquiry.

From the day she was born, we knew
this would happen—
and kind of figured
that might happen, too.
It even made us smile in anticipation,
as if life might truly be an adventure—
though it’s not always what we believe,
it’s what we want to teach her.
Sure, there’d be the teething, the testing,
the travail of long division,
apartments without heat,
cold floors of unkindness,
plenty of tears—friends moving away, break-ups,
dishonesty in those we’d trusted.
Maybe even losing a job unjustly—
so much might happen
that demands recourse
where the universe offers none.
What’s sort of true:
life’s as sad, as we make it,
and as happy too.
Humans will do evil things,
from indifference or intent—
and still we move on.
It’s in the moving—
and doing what we know is right,
might finally be enough.  


Alan Walowitz has been published various places on the web and off.  His work was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2017 and 2018 and he is a Contributing Editor at Verse-Virtual, an Online Community Journal of Poetry.  His chapbook Exactly Like Love is available from Osedax Press, and his full-length book The Story of the Milkman and Other Poems is available from Truth Serum Press. 

CAPO GHAZAL

by Esther Greenleaf Murer

Of course I’ll release the funds.  But first, do me a favor.
No, of course you’re not being coerced—just do me a favor.

Those shitholes out there are trying to undermine me!
They have to be slimed and aspersed, so do me a favor.

Help me out with this and I’ll invite you to the White House.
Just do your best (i.e. worst) and I’ll take it as a favor.

Rudy is coming with an offer you can’t refuse:
end up in the Dnieper feet first, or do me a favor.

This transcript is going to the secret computer system,
so forget that we ever conversed; just do me a favor.

Esther Greenleaf Murer is a longtime contributor to the TheNewVerse.News.  She lives in Philadelphia.

QUID PRO . . . WHAT?

by George Salamon

We can't tell a quid when we hear it,
but we can spot a quo when we don't.

Quid and quo were conceived as twins,
now nobody can tell which is which.

A man asks for a quo by offering a quid,
unless it's a politician caught in the act.

If a quid can be without a quo,
a quo can exist without a quid.

For our leaders faith is the same as proof,
and Tweedledee one with Tweedledum.

George Salamon contributes to The Asses of Parnassus, Dissident Voice, One Sentence Poems and TheNewVerse.News from St. Louis, MO.

TRAJECTORIES #7

by David Chorlton

Photo Illustration by The Daily Beast / Photo and Video by Getty

It’s such a pleasant and deceitful
day, with the afternoon light
lying back on the green
side of the mountain
and quail in a covey scurrying
for cover as the hearings wind
down until tomorrow. The local Red-tail
prowls the atmosphere,
circling the golf course
pond while pigeons
flock for safety in numbers. Witnesses
appear one
at a time, exposed to words
that fly from a questioner’s mouth
and don’t know
where to land. Is good the bright
and bad the shadow, or
the other way around? It all depends
which side a person’s on,
and the small birds know their place.
Seventy-three degrees; not a cloud
in sight; the whistleblower’s name
is still a secret; there is
no wind to turn the turbine
vent that complains every time it blows,
aching as only
metal can.

David Chorlton  is a long time resident of Phoenix, who loves the desert and its wildlife but can't quite stay away from watching public issues unfold. He recently produced a long poem, Speech Scroll, which will surface in the not too distant future thanks to Cholla Needles Press.

FROM THE GAETZ OF HELL

by Rémy Dambron

Assembled in the name
of congressional duty

three committees convened
to depose the unruly

in a secretive facility
known as a SCIF

chaired by the honorable
Adam B. Schiff

but disturbed and perturbed
formed a flock of strange men

flapping and snapping
from inside their pen

all of a feather
both orange and red

disrupting corrupting
due process instead

breeding bad eggs
with old beaks and brooding

regurgitating lies
immorality oozing

storming the doors
and mocking decorum

dive-bombing tricksters
a riotous quorum

circumventing evidence
to circle their circus

distractions by faction
so facts would't surface

crowing and showing
hypocrisy for truth

clutching their phones
such misconduct uncouth

led by none other than
Florida's finest

representative Gaetz
the indignant and spineless

breaking house rules
to demand they be obeyed

came a congress of crows
for their shameless charade.

Rémy Dambron is an activist, environmentalist, and author based out of Portland, Oregon. His work has appeared in What Rough Beast, Writer's Resist, Poets Reading the News, and TheNewVerse.News, focusing largely on denouncing political corruption and advocating for social justice. Without the love and support of his wife Susan, he would not be the writer he is today.