PRESIDENTIAL, THE SCOWL SAYS IT ALL

by Peter A. Witt

The White House released a new version of President Trump's official portrait on June 2, 2025. 

Ah yes, the look of a leader—
if your idea of leadership
comes from reality TV reruns
and late-night Twitter storms.

Behold, the squint of gravitas,
or maybe just squinting
because truth is blinding.

The hair—a masterpiece of engineering,
suspended like disbelief,
defying physics and sincerity alike.

That suit? Tailored to say “power,”
but mostly says,
“Does this blue make me look important?”

The flag pin, a delicate touch—
as if it might distract from the fact
that this is more wax museum
than White House.

He stares, not with wisdom,
but with the intensity of someone
trying to remember
where he left his talking points.

Yes, this is a portrait of a man
who believes looking serious
is the same as being serious.

Presidential?
Sure, in the same way
wearing a goofy hat 
makes you royalty.

Peter A. Witt lives in Texas. His work has appeared in The New Verse News, other online publications, and several print volumes.

MARRIED TO A FIBER ARTIST MARRIED TO JOANN’S

by Dick Altman

A farewell to a beloved emporium that ralllied the
artistic spirits of generations

Your quilting ideas
all begin humble
enough—with a visit
to the base of Joann’s
multi-hued tree,
whose fruit feeds
your artistic passions,
blooming eventually,
perhaps months later,
into fabric canvases,
selected for eyes
of a dozen countries
or more.
 
You don’t create
for the prize.
Your true love,
a love since
childhood,
is breathing life
into your imaginings,
using a paint brush
of needle and thread,
and blossoms
of fabric culled
from Joann’s
garden
of visual delights,
almost beyond
number.
 
Nothing,
it seems,
lies beyond
your reach.
A portrait
of a distant cousin,
wounded
in America’s
Civil War.
Raised arms
whose fingers
transmute
into a ululation
of flames,
recalling conflict
in the Middle East.
A storm at sea,
whose
three dimensional
sea gulls,
appear to rise
off the canvas,
as they
weave themselves
amid waves
seeking to touch
the clouds.
 
I often stand
in wonder—
I who struggle
to turn a patchwork
of words
into a caress of lines—
as you sketch
your ideas into being,
with a sureness,
I could never wring
from a first draft.
You call Joann’s
your bazaar
of inspiration.
I call it
a spinning wheel
of miracles.

Storm at Sea—Dance of the Gulls by Holly Altman

 
Dick Altman writes in the high, thin, magical air of Santa Fe, NM, where, at 7,000 feet, reality and imagination often blur. He is published in Santa Fe Literary Review, American Journal of Poetry, Fredericksburg Literary Review, Foliate Oak, Landing Zone, Cathexis Northwest Press, Humana Obscura, Haunted Waters Press, Split Rock Review, The Ravens Perch, Beyond Words, The New Verse News, Wingless Dreamer, Blueline, Sky Island Journal, and others here and abroad.  His work also appears in the first edition of The New Mexico Anthology of Poetry published by the New Mexico Museum Press.  Pushcart Prize nominee and poetry winner of Santa Fe New Mexican’s annual literary competition, he has authored some 250 poems, published on four continents.

AFTERIMAGE

by Cathleen Cohen

Portrait of Kaylin Johnson (KJ) painted by Cathleen Cohen for the Johnson family as part of the Soul Shots Project the mission of which is to bring attention to and memorialize the lives lost and tragically altered due to gun violence. KJ was shot and killed in Philadelphia in July 2021.

Painting KJ’s portrait, I peer

at an image of this beautiful boy, shot

in his parked car, waiting

 

to ferry friends to soccer practice.

His mother sends photos that capture

his smile, his jaunty shoulders.

 

I can tell he was quick

with jokes, sparking others.

His mother says he’d jump 

to carry heavy bags 

for older neighbors,

even strangers.

 

The boy who shot him

was a stranger.

Afterimage is illusion.

The brain persists in seeing

what’s removed.

 

Sometimes color memory

is repressed,

sometimes brighter.

 

I cry when I take up the brush.

What about skin tone?

Reference photos lack 

saturation

and I never met him.

Or background?

 

Brick red for urban houses?

Cobalt for sky—something

hopeful?

Cathleen Cohen was the 2019 Poet Laureate of Montgomery County, PA. A poet, painter and teacher, she created the We the Poets program for children. Her poems appear in journals such as Apiary, Baltimore Review, East Coast Ink, North of Oxford, One Art Journal, Passager, Philadelphia Stories, Poetica, River Heron Review, and Rogue Agent. She authored Camera Obscura (Moonstone Press), Etching the Ghost (Atmosphere Press) and Sparks and Disperses (Cornerstone Press). Her artwork is on view at Cerulean Arts Gallery.