COLLEGE WALK

by Philip Kitcher

Students and neighbors are suing the school [Columbia], magnifying the broader complaint that institutions stifle free expression when they restrict access to public spaces following protests. —The New York Times, March 27, 2025
 
 
The locals used to wander through.
No obstacles. They’d pass
the open gates. They’d spend an hour or two
kicking a ball, or lying on the grass.
 
No student ID was required,
no need to fear
they were unwelcome. Young ones were inspired
to think they’d study here.
 
Now it’s a fortress. Honeyed words can’t stem
the nagging fear
that higher education’s not for them:
they are intruders here.
 
Officials at the shuttered gates divide
the privileged from neighbors. Must they feel
that they are destined to remain outside?
Can wounds inflicted daily ever heal?

Philip Kitcher has written too many books about philosophy, a subject which he taught at Columbia for many years. His new book The Rich and the Poor (Polity Press) is all about the costs of abandoning morality in politics and public life. His poems have appeared online in Light, Lighten Up Online, Politics/Letters, Snakeskin, and The Dirigible Balloon; and in print in the Hudson Review.

CRISIS AT THE HEDGES

by Lisa Seidenberg

In my town they dislike the falling leaves.

Taking up real estate reserved

for pristine green lawns

And tenderly tended flowerbeds.

Crossing borders in disheveled groups,

no respect for property lines,

or the privileged space of fenced-off estates.

Who are they—these usurpers?

Where did they come from?

Spending the day lounging in the sun

as if they had nowhere to go.

Can’t they apply for residency

like proper foliage?

I watch with satisfaction as armies 

of landscapers chase them 

with their high-powered blowers

Into waiting trucks and vans

to be hauled away and out of sight.

Thankfully, the workers, 

most of whom are immigrants,

are there to take care of the problem.

Lisa Seidenberg is a writer and filmmaker residing in coastal Connecticut where there has been a noticeable influx of leaves falling this Autumn, due to the lack of rain. Her recent writing has appeared in Gyroscope Review, Atticus Review, Asymptote Journal, The NewVerseNews, One Art: A Journal of Poetry. She is currently a peer poetry reviewer for Whale Road Review.

WHEEL OF FORTUNE

 by Mary K O’Melveny

“Vaccine Wheel of Fortune” by JMbucholtz at Deviant Art.

               In the Circle of Life

                    It's the wheel of fortune

                    It's the leap of faith

                    It's the band of hope

                    Till we find our place…

—“The Circle of Life” (Lyrics by Tim Rice)

No one wants to be the last woman down before the cure.

So everyone is staring at computer screens, leaning into

laptops, cradling cell phones. Legions of faithful vaccine

seekers are as determined as El Camino de Santiago pilgrims.

Or would-be buyers of Hamilton tickets back when Broadway

was still open.  There are waiting lists, rumors, promises.

Appointments made, then cancelled. Lines form, disband.

Recorded messages say don’t call us, we’ll call you.

 

Everyone is at risk. But not enough to be advanced to more

fortunate categories. We reside in data bases far and wide.

We’ve filled out forms as if they were lottery tickets, sent

every scrap of personal data to would-be hackers around

the globe, called doctors we’ve not seen in years, even searched

for fake college IDs that might jump us to new age brackets.

Some neighbors raced to appointments in neighborhoods they

had never seen, forgetting who the odds had already disfavored.

 

As usual, the privileged see serendipity. Everyone else

knows how often the game is rigged. Kismet is a figment.

The carnival barker is gone but his fabrications linger

like smoke from a cheap cigar. Even as chilled vials traverse

the highways like pilgrim caravans, new viral strains mutate,

shapeshift. Before all our waiting arms are raised, half a million

will likely die. So we click and call and cry for our chance

at good fortune. Once again, Lady Luck smiles, then disappoints.

Mary K O'Melveny is a recently retired labor rights attorney who lives in Washington DC and Woodstock NY.  Her work has appeared in various print and on-line journals. Her first poetry chapbook A Woman of a Certain Age is available from Finishing Line Press. Mary’s poetry collection Merging Star Hypotheses was published by Finishing Line Press in January, 2020.

WHEN PROTESTS COME TO THE UPPER EAST SIDE

by George Salamon





“In a reflection of how American cities have changed since the 1960s, demonstrations have included many wealthy areas.” —The New York Times, June 2, 2020


High-towered days in Manhattan
Crumble into ruins, while the silk
Curtains in the million-dollar condos
Whisper of murder and the owners
Wander restlessly through the rooms,
Hearing whispers of the tired old black
Men who served drinks in the rooftop
Bar, their eyes speaking of hardscrabble
Lives and the parents retreated to their
Children's bedrooms and read to them
From brightly-colored picture books of
America's fairy tales that once upon
A time bewitched them.


George Salamon lives and writes in St. Louis, MO and has most recently contributed to The Asses of Parnassus, Dissident Voice, and TheNewVerse.News.