BULLY PULPIT

by Mark Danowsky

was not intended to mean 
what any of us think 
but language changes 
& we change with it 
& you know a bully 
when you see one— 
some preaching leviathan 
who offers a shaky 
social contract
insisting life is
not worth living 
unless we have 
a kind of freedom
from each other— 
say six feet 
or the Grand Canyon 
where your views
stop mattering
unless my views
comfortably overlap
which happens
less & less 
in a crumbling Democracy
while the old guard 
hammers home 
the same tired tales
of Middle Class bliss
with fenced neighbors 
who deep down
share our core 
values & beliefs 
which fall flat  
in the face 
value of daily reminders
hammering home
who we care
enough to protect 

Mark Danowsky is Editor-in-Chief of ONE ART: a journal of poetry and Poetry Craft Essays Editor for Cleaver Magazine. He is the author of several short poetry books. His latest poetry collection is Take Care (Moon Tide Press, 2025). He writes and curates Stay Curious on Substack.

FOR THE BOY ON TRIAL

by David Southward

From left, Judge Bruce Schroeder, Kyle Rittenhouse and defense attorney Mark Richards watch a video Nov. 12 during Rittenhouse’s homicide trial in Kenosha, Wis. (Mark Hertzberg/Pool/AP via The Washington Post)

I don’t wish death

or solitary confinement

or even the hell

of half a life wasted

behind bars. No:

I want him to be stricken

with disgust—at the blood

he’s spilled, at the horror

of his rash heroics. I want God

to part the clouds of his mind

and set afire

its nest of fear and folly.

I want the clearing smoke

to open his eyes

to true manhood: the facing down

of an enemy hiding

within—the answering

of a people’s need

for sobriety, not messiah.

I want him to rise

above the buzzfed grapevines,

the twitter of rumor

and rumble of propagandas

and remember history:

to become his republic’s

most disarming

spokesman. I want him

to march and preach

civility—to be Prince Hal

to a nation of Hotspurs,

to become (in the unpredictable

flowerings of time)

our next King

of change.

 

 

David Southward teaches in the Honors College at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. He is the author of Apocrypha (Wipf & Stock 2018) and Bachelor’s Buttons (Kelsay Books 2020). 

KĀKOLŪKĪYAM

by Nicholas Katsanis

An Afghan soldier pops up from his tank to signal a U.S. warplane bombing Al Qaeda fighters in the White Mountains of Tora Bora in Afghanistan on Dec. 10, 2001.(David Guttenfelder / Associated Press via the Los Angeles Times)

The owls and the crows are at war

Embroiled in bitter struggle for control of their dominion

Ill-defined by borders and perceived advantages

The owls are old and therefore wise

Or so they tell themselves to make-belief

Convince their childrens’ children of their superiority

Supremacy of poise and purpose, they persist

Until foibles morph into fact,

Poorly begotten truth whose tangled roots are lost—conveniently—in antiquity

The crows are young, confident, energetic

The skies’ embrace belong to them, they preach

For they are fast and nimble

Intimidating in their murder, or so they teach their children

Schooling them in the virtue of their virility, their singularity of purpose

The owls and crows are at war

Bickering over holes in trees

Despite the endless forest that surrounds them

Beak on beak and claw on claw

They decimate each other’s numbers

Each pointless victory and defeat

Treated by triumphalism and defiance in equal measure

The owls’ corpses are offered eternal absolution

The crows’ mangled bodies heavenly promise of peace and honey

Both declaring divine providence over the Final Rights

Both bereft of true wisdom

The owls and the crows were at war

Embroiled in bitter struggle for control of their dominion

Until the lightning in the forest burned

And the rain fell upon the smoldering stumps

And there was nothing left to war over

Author’s Note: Inspired by the Panchatantra collection of classic Indian fables, this adaptation examines the current/perpetual secular and religious tension in Afghanistan post-collapse.

Nicholas Katsanis is an author and poet of magical realism. You can find some of his micro fiction (50-word stories, stories in 100 words) as well upcoming pieces in Literary Stories and elsewhere (including magazines that do not have the word ‘Story’ in their titles). He lives and works in southern Florida. Follow him on Twitter @nicholaskatsan1

IGNITION

by Catherine Wald

"Nearby, off to one side, Mahalia Jackson shouted: 'Tell them about the dream, Martin!'” —Drew Hansen, The New York Times, August 27, 2016

I heard this story from a Friend who was there at the
Mall in Washington, D.C., on August 28, 1963.

It was, the Quaker said, a woman from the speaker’s congregation

who interrupted the great man’s speech.

            “Tell them about your dream, Martin,”

            she bellowed.

            (Later I learned it wasn’t just any little old

            church lady, but Mahalia Jackson.)

                                    “Tell them about your dream!”

That was when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. put down his

prepared pages and began to preach his vision.

            That was when the capital crackled with electricity

                        and the words caught fire.

                                    They’re still burning today.

Catherine Wald’s chapbook Distant, burned-out stars was published by Finishing Line Press in 2011. Poems have appeared in American Journal of Nursing, Buddhist Poetry Review, Chronogram, Dragonfly, Friends Journal, J Journal, Jewish Literary Journal, "Metropolitan Diary" (The New York Times), Minerva Rising, Quarterday Review, The Lyric and Westchester Review.  She is author of The Resilient Writer: Tales of Triumph and Rejection from 23 Top Authors (Persea 2004).