Diane Sahms

no. 9 [state of affairs, america]

into the unknown, late one march afternoon
shuttered with concerns, you lean against a thought

sky littered or is it tethered by brilliant hopeful clouds:
lavender, rose with linings of supreme golden truths.

to press your ear to roots and seeds on a listening ground
wonder everyone’s wonder: where are we headed—

when justice undresses into brutality?
when communal morals are plowed-in, time and time again

and the silence of trees forecasts more injustices.
above wisdom’s brow, moon wrinkles in deep furrows.

city streets persist, insist on liberty.


Diane's YouTube reading of "no. 9 [state of affairs, america]"


Diane confesses: "This poem was triggered by the brutality of ICE agents in Minnesota and elsewhere in our country. I believe Americans are truly concerned about the direction of our country and are questioning the loss of truth and justice. However, 'city streets persist, insist on liberty,' as Americans will not be silenced."

DIANE SAHMS, a native Philadelphian, is the author of nine poetry collections, latest —of an octopus: an archite|x|tural awareness of words, Carbonation Press, 2026. Awarded first place in Judith Stark’s Poetry Contest and Partisan Press’s Working People’s Poetry Contest, she is the recipient of AEVentures Foundation’s Poetry Grant. Published in North American Review, Northern Virginia Review, Brushfire, Valley Voices, Sequestrum, Chiron Review, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Pennsylvania Literary Journal, The New Verse News, Ranger Magazine, Amsterdam Review and elsewhere, with poems forthcoming from Abstract Magazine: Contemporary Expressions. Poetry Editor at North of Oxford, she has worked as a Contract Specialist for the government and as a high school English teacher. https://dianesahmsguarnieri.wordpress.com and http://www.dianesahms-guarnieri.com/

G. Emil Reutter

SENSELESS ACTIONS OF A MAD MAN

Our ships are massed on the sea near Iran as
bombs and missiles drop by the thousands upon
the land, bad guys killed… more innocents in the
numbers in a war that no one can explain… or
can they.

Why?
Why?
Why?

Servicemen and women killed in the line of duty
for what?

What?
What?
What?

Oil... China... Epstein?

Or the senseless actions of a mad man!


g.'s YouTube reading of "Senseless Actions of a Mad Man"


g. confesses nothing.

G. EMIL REUTTER is a writer of stories and poems. He can be found at https://gereutter.wordpress.com/about/

Susan L. Pollet

FALLING FROM THE SKY

It was March of 2026
as they sat in bomb shelters with
their families, if they were lucky
enough to have that option,
in their respective countries,
captives of the leaders making
decisions once in power,
mostly without their say,
what rained from the sky competed
with nature’s most furious storm

To those below, it felt that they had
little control whether made by man
or made by the physical world, as
they smiled through clenched teeth,
prayed in different languages for
deliverance, and told themselves
they would get through this latest
assault on what was left of
the ‘dignity of man’


Gerald So's YouTube reading of "Falling from the Sky"


Susan confesses: "This poem was inspired by the tense global atmosphere of early 2026, when ordinary people in many countries felt trapped between powerful leaders and forces beyond their control. Images of families in shelters, fear falling from the sky, and fragile human dignity reflect anxiety about war, vulnerability, and the resilience people cling to during crisis."

SUSAN L. POLLET is a published author of books in multiple genres and a fine artist who is a member of the Arts Student’s League in New York City. Susan’s poetry and art have been published in multiple literary publications and in on-line shows.

Hana Kelly

BASAL CLEAVAGE OF A DRUGSTORE DOLLAR

there it stands:
hunger
open-mouthed and gaping.
a hole in the ground full
of glossy, shiny things like teeth
or fangs
or mica
ready to eat our youth

and there they go
into the deep darkness
of its throat
small bodies in an open maw
small hands prepped for extraction
into a maze of windpipes for
the earth to breathe;

and they breathe each other in,
dust and sweat and blood,
the children and the mines.
for one tiny moment
in the shadowy hollow
a constellation underground,
pressing in on them

but these stars bite, are rabid.
small hands fit better into
muzzles
grope in the grit-fogged gloom
for sharp, pretty sheets of mica

for handfuls of rupees,
for a short escape
from hunger,
the risk of collapse—
lung or wall or world.
for the shimmer of tears
from a bereft mother,
still hungry,
still with other small mouths to feed.

for the glitter and sparkle
of pretty maquillage
on a plump American face.
and only a few American dollars.
how small a price to pay.


Hana's YouTube reading of "Basal Cleavage of a Drugstore Dollar"


Hana confesses: "This poem is inspired by mica mining in India, where poverty is used to keep a system of unethical and child labor practices in place. Unchecked capitalism will always have a victim. Learn more: https://www.fairplanet.org/story/child-labour-in-mica-mines-the-beauty-industrys-dark-secret/"

HANA KELLY lives in Atlanta and recently graduated from Georgia State University with a B.A. in English. When she is not writing speculative or surreal fiction, she’s reading it. Catch up with her on Instagram @hanamkelly.

Craig Kirchner

RIGHT

Liam will be back,
not because a judge ordered it,
but because it is right
that he be reunited with
all that he was taken from,
and right will win this war,
ultimately right will win,
and he will be home, happy.

I dreamt about Hell,
amazing since I don’t believe
in Heaven or Hell.
There were special wings,
named after the greats,
designated as to deviancy
murderers, wife beaters,
child molesters and ICE.

In the dream Putin dies,
massive heart attack.
Russians filled the streets of Moscow,
crowds in every major city
celebrated, rejoiced –
it seemed right.
The flag at the White House
was at half-staff.

Vlad was immediately directed
to the Hitler wing.
He asked the commandant
if any of his friends
would be coming here.
No, there are special cots for them
in the Epstein wing.
You will be better off here
and you can believe it.


Craig's YouTube reading of "Right"


Craig confesses: "To do anything to traumatize a five-year-old is not right, it’s not Christian, and anyone that thinks its American has something fundamentally wrong with them. The terrorists responsible, all of them, will find a special place reserved in hell."

CRAIG KIRCHNER loves the aesthetics of writing, has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels, and has been nominated three times for a Pushcart. He has been published in Chiron Review, Main Street Rag, and dozens of others. He houses 500 books in his office and about 400 poems on a laptop; these words help keep him straight. Craig has an interview up at Spillword and can be found on Bluesky.

F.I. Goldhaber

STAIN
A Fibonacci poem

You
can
wash blood
from your skin,
walls, and floors. Launder
it from most clothing. But rugs are
problematic. So they removed all the carpeting.


F.I.'s YouTube reading of "Stain"


F.I. confesses nothing.

F.I. GOLDHABER's words capture people, places, and politics with a photographer's eye and a poet's soul. As a reporter, editor, and business writer, they produced news stories, feature articles, editorial columns, and reviews for newspapers, corporations, governments, and non-profits in five states. Now paper, plastic, electronic, and audio magazines, books, newspapers, calendars, broadsides, and street signs display their poetry, fiction, and essays. More than 250 of their poems appear in almost 100 publications including What Color is Your Privilege?, their political poetry collection published by Left Fork press. http://www.goldhaber.net/

Caleb Merritt

ALLOW ME

Let me introduce you to Allergens. Let me open the door to invisible vibrancy. Was my name only that? I don’t care for it, that much, after all. It was, I suppose, useful. But did it mean anything? I don’t know. I only visibly support the American people. Their doughnuts. Their donuts. Their Sundays. Their Washington Monuments. A pyramid with a floating eye. The humor of something that Nate Piekos might write. I was delighted, after all, with that short drive, with the community-against-the-war, with the things we bring as parental composites of ourselves. Let me get the door for you.


Caleb's YouTube reading of "Allow Me"


Caleb confesses: "Broadly, I imagine I was curious in a meandering-about way on what privilege makes of allowing, allowances, and what we attempt to change. I wonder in what ways I unconsciously and unfortunately support the American people. And, as the poem notes, 'But did it mean anything? I don’t know.'"

CALEB MERRITT an artist living and working in the Treasure Valley.

Craig Kirchner

SATURDAY AT THE BEACH

I’m driving to the protest at the beach
thinking I’ve become that old man that
so many times I drove by and thought –
I never want to be like that.

I’m not on a walker or carrying a cane
but I hobble now instead of stride
and hunch over instead of strut -
and I realize I don’t have a sign.

I arrive early. A guy with ragged clothes
and scraggly beard has six signs on the ground
and without me asking says, Yeah, take one.
I choose – WE FIGHT FASCISM.

I ask him if he had been protesting long.
Since the sixties, he told me his age,
same as mine, and walked away when
I noticed his left leg was a prosthetic.

It stopped me – me driving here feeling
sorry for myself in my Banana Republic
button down, because I get shots in my knees,
and had out of pocket for cataracts.

After an hour of making friends, waving my sign,
I drag my sore knees back to the car,
turn on the radio to hear ICE killed an ICU nurse,
trying to help a woman avoid pepper spray.

Alex Pretti will not get to bitch about being
an old man, about his gel shots. His life stolen
by a cruelty normal in Nazi Germany,
but until recently not by an American agency.

I’ve become an old man, old enough
to be sure, to have the privilege, to die
as you are supposed to, maybe in your sleep,
hopefully surrounded by family.

I shuffled my bad knees out of the car, threw up
on the parking lot, cried, not much. I haven’t cried
since my father died 30 years ago, got the sign
out of the trunk and went back to the protest.


Craig's YouTube reading of "Saturday at the beach"


Craig confesses: "Minneapolis under siege, innocent citizens being killed by the Federal government with our tax dollars is the main thing motivating most Americans for the past month. Of course, there are also the Epstein victims and files the siege is probably supposed to make us forget. Make America America Again."

CRAIG KIRCHNER loves the aesthetics of writing, has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels, and has been nominated three times for a Pushcart. He has been published in Chiron Review, Main Street Rag, and dozens of others. He houses 500 books in his office and about 400 poems on a laptop; these words help keep him straight. Craig has an interview up at Spillword and can be found on Bluesky.

Jennifer Lagier

SAY HER NAME
For Renée Nicole Good

While stormtroopers terrorize our neighborhoods,
assault senior citizens, peaceful protestors,
a black-clad, masked man points his revolver
through Renee’s open window.

Armed with only her voice, conscience, and a whistle,
she attempts to leave the scene as instructed
in a family SUV filled with
children’s stuffed animals.

The soundtrack from witnesses’ videos
reveal her calmly telling the aggressive ICE agent
she isn’t mad at him.
He responds by pumping three shots
into her face, murdering a wife and mother.

Afterwards, he walks away,
snarls, “Fuck You, Bitch,”
the vicious philosophy
of his evil overlord’s
cruel administration.


Jennufer's YouTube reading of "Say Her Name"


Jennifer confesses: "Moral outrage compels me to speak out about this heinous murder of a woman by an armed assassin."

JENNIFER LAGIER has published twenty-five books. Her work appears in a variety of anthologies and literary magazines. She taught with California Poets in the Schools, edited the Homestead Review, currently edits the Monterey Poetry Review, helps publicize Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Saturday readings. Website: jlagier.net, Facebook: www.facebook.com/JenniferLagier/

F.I. Goldhaber

BREAK THE CYCLE
A Fibonacci poem

He
failed.
Again.
Make this the
last time. Replace him
immediately with someone who:
isn't a quisling, has a spine, is a capable
leader, fights fascism and Zionism, and is not doddering toward dementia.


F.I.'s YouTube reading of "Break the Cycle"


F.I. confesses nothing

F.I. GOLDHABER's words capture people, places, and politics with a photographer's eye and a poet's soul. As a reporter, editor, business writer, and marketing communications consultant, they produced news stories, feature articles, editorial columns, and reviews for newspapers, corporations, governments, and non-profits in five states. Now paper, plastic, electronic, and audio magazines, books, newspapers, calendars, broadsides, and street signs display their poetry, fiction, and essays. More than 240 of their poems appear in almost 90 publications including What Color is Your Privilege?, their political poetry collection published by Left Fork press. http://www.goldhaber.net/

G. Emil Reutter

STANDARD POLICE PROCEDURE
Do not shoot at a moving vehicle

In the land of liberty where
Citizens are under attack by
Rogue agents of Immigration
And Border Patrol led by a
Rogue secretary where laws
And rules do not apply
Do not apply
Shoot first, shoot them, beat them
The pink haired leader proclaims
Condems the victim in the violence
First shooting in Minneapolis
Next in Portland... .
Are any citizens safe in the
Land of Trump?

Across the land
Standard Police Procedure
Do not shoot at a moving vehicle.
Local, State, Federal
Do not shoot at a moving vehicle.
Unless you are one of those who
Attack people while wearing masks
Commando uniforms when you
Are civilian law enforcement... .
Not military... .
Do not shoot at a moving vehicle


g.'s YouTube reading of "Standard Police Procedure"


g. confesses: "The poem was inspired by the events unfoliding in Minniapolis and Portland that refect on what is going on across the nation. We must speak up!"

G. EMIL REUTTER is a writer of stories and poems. He can be found at https://gereutter.wordpress.com/about/

Robert Cooperman

TRUMP'S PROCLAMATION

“Effective immediately,
all streets, avenues, and boulevards
named for Martin Luther King, Jr.
will be renamed for the slain
American martyr, Charlie Kirk.

“In addition, all public sculptings
of King will be torn down, melted,
and recast as equestrian statues of me,
your president, Donald J. Trump.

“It’s time to start honoring us great
American heroes, not a rabble rouser
with the bad luck to get in the way
of a stray bullet when he had slinked off
to Memphis to meet his mistress.

“America needs role models
who look like its citizens:
like Charlie, true Christian men,
who built this country
and are now threatened
by snarling, woke hordes of savages.

“Any city or state that fails
to carry out these orders immediately
will lose all federal funds, plus suffer
the summary imprisonment of all officials
responsible for this act of treason.

“Are you listening New York,
Chicago, Los Angeles, Detroit, D.C.,
and any den of leftwing extremist traitors?
The soft times are over for you.
Real Americans are back
and we want answers and names.”


Gerald So's YouTube reading of "Trump's Proclamation"


Cooperman confesses: "'Trump's Proclamation' is just my logical conclusion to his fulminating that only "real" Americans should be honored, and by 'real' Americans we can surmise the president-would-rule-for-life means Christian white men like Charlie Kirk and even more so, himself. So why not take it one step further and make them he mandatory subjects of all public art?"

ROBERT COOPERMAN's latest collection is The Death and Rebirth of Ophelia, a retelling of Hamlet, with a slightly happier ending, at least for Ophelia. Steerage is the highly fictionalized story of his grandfather's misadventures on the Lower East Side of New York in the early 20th Century. An Oar for Odysseus is the final collection in Cooperman's lifelong love affair with Odysseus and The Odyssey.

Richie Narvaez

KNOCK KNOCK
After Hal Sirowitz

Open the door, I need to ask some questions,
the ICE agent said. I have the authority to question,
detain, and only mildly inconvenience everyone inside.
I don’t need a warrant, lady, I’m just doing my job.
You have nothing to fear, seniora,
I’m a friendly guy, trust me. It doesn’t matter
if you can’t see my face. This won’t take long,
then you can go about your life,
whatever is left of it.


Richie's YouTube reading of "Knock Knock"


Richie confesses: "I was inspired to write this poem by the death of my friend, the great poet Hal Sirowitz, and by the current crime-filled state of our government. Note: ICE agents must have warrants signed by judges in order to enter residences. They have been known to fraudulently identify themselves as police officers to get people to voluntarily let them into their residences."

RICHIE NARVAEZ is the author of two novels and two short story collections.

John Kaprielian

LA COSA AMERICANA

We used to call it "The Mafia."

Untouchable man at the top
Capos run
criminal enterprises
insinuate themselves
everywhere
funnel money
up the chain

Extortion
Bribery
Blackmail
Money laundering
Sex trafficking

Bent cops and thugs
do the enforcing
corrupt lawyers and judges
keep everyone out of jail

Get out of line
get in their way
guys in black masks
throw you in a van and
you are "disappeared"

This is also
an accurate description
of the current Administration.

Government?
No. Organized crime.


John's YouTube reading of "La Cosa Americana"


John confesses: "This poem grew directly from a comment I made online, where I said I felt like the current administration was behaving more like a crime syndicate than a government, doing all the stuff "Organized Crime" is notorious for. The parallels were too close not to try to write a poem about it."

Now retired from a career as a natural history photo editor and a digital asset librarian, JOHN KAPRIELAN has been writing poetry for over 4 decades. He brings his keen eye for natural history and a progressive point of view to many of his poems. He studied creative writing at Cornell with the poet A.R. Ammons while getting his undergraduate degree in Russian Linguistics, and holds a Masters in Information and Library Science from the University at Buffalo. He has been published in Minute Magazine, The Blue Nib, Young Ravens Literary Review, Poetry Quarterly, What Rough Beast, and many other journals, and has a poetry collection available through Amazon.

Robert Plath

TO MY 5-YEAR-OLD SELF AS I APPROACH 55

today i go thru an old door
behind my eyes
arriving back
beneath that terrible roof
& i pick you up
& we slip away
from the monster
who doesn’t notice
as he slumps
watches boxing on tv
in the den
we cross splintered
door jambs
before his fists
begin itching
& drive until we reach
a bright field
we get out
& walk
i pause to pick
a bouquet of violets
my hands touching yr hands
in a benevolent exchange
the same hands
you smile
pressing blue petals
to yr heart
like defibrillator paddles
beneath june sun


Gerald So's YouTube reading of "to my 5-year-old self..."


Rob confesses nothing.

ROB PLATH has been prolific in the underground lit. scene since 1995. His most recent poetry collections are Walking Across The Shards Of My Soul, 2021 and Batter the Keyboard Like A Raptor Is Behind Your Back, 2022. A long awaited full-length collection is due out in 2025.

Allison Whittenberg

ELEGY FOR FIFTY CENTS

about those unworn baby shoes,
don't leap to tragedy.
everyone knows babies hate things on their feet.
they kick them off.
frugal parents hock them at a yard sale.
this is not news, no
know:
even at the bottom of an iceberg
hope floats


Allison's YouTube reading of "elegy for fifty cents"


Allison confesses nothing.

ALLISON WHITTENBERG is an award winning novelist and playwright. Her poetry has appeared in Columbia Review, Feminist Studies, J Journal, and New Orleans Review. Whittenberg is a ten-time Pushcart Prize nominee. They Were Horrible Cooks is her collection of poetry. Killing the Father of Our Country is her latest novel.

Cithara Patra

I ONLY WENT TO THE STORE

we ran out of eggs
and the store was a few blocks away
it was 5 AM when I stepped outside
a few cars zoomed by as i made my way
i turned the corner and they grabbed me
no words but kicks and punches
breathing in my ear
hands grabbing and shoving me to the ground
does anyone see this?
they’re not coming to my rescue

tears won’t run as they drag me
screams won’t leave my mouth as they yank me
don’t resist, don’t talk back
if i value my life, I won’t fight for it
no explanations will work as they drag me
far from my sidewalk, away from the store
...i was going there.

this is the world I live in now
a world without empathy
no one cares about these bruises
i’ll disappear and no one will know
the bruises on body may heal
maybe i’ll find a way back
and i’ll return without trust
in my fellow man
or love for my country

i lost my freedom at 5 AM
walking to the store
i know i’m not the only one
we suffer together for being
in the wrong place
we’re still in the wrong place
will we make it back?

it’s a big price to pay
and all I wanted
were eggs.


Cithara's YouTube reading of "i only went to the store"


Cithara confesses: "The general inspiration is the news of people being taken away off the streets. Many of them are taken without questions. I just wanted to get into the thoughts of someone in that situation."

CITHARA PATRA currently lives in North Carolina with their family. They've written for a few literary journals including CafeLit, Poetries in English, The Quasar Review, Instant Noodles, and 50 Word Stories. In their spare time, they travel and check out brand new places to eat.

A.C. Perri

BEDDING ENEMIES

You once led an army, bled them,
Used them till they no longer served
Your purpose.

You once led a nation, spirited,
Willing to do almost everything
Until that too came undone.

You once promised us a future,
One secured with wealth and
All things golden, we got pewter instead.

You once swore to allegiance,
Watch you cross your heart
Did you cross your fingers behind our backs?

You once walked our paths,
Said you were one of us
Were they all just lies?

You once led an army, bled them
Dry, skinned their flesh for your
Own bed, how do you sleep at night?!


Gerald So's YouTube reading of "Bedding Enemies"


A.C. confesses: "This poem was inspired by dire images flashing across screens, in particular, the so-called leaders who promise so much, yet deliver so little; leaving most of us wondering what the $#@!."

A.C. PERRI has been writing creative works for over three decades; her works have been published in local and international journals including Bootleg Magazine, Gems Zine, Brilliant Flash, and several Moonstone Press titles.

Fatimah Akanbi

WHIPS

Their backs are laden with loads
They are held at stranglehold
And dragged by hefty ropes
Away from their homes

Then the dictators
Watch from lofty windows
As their sweat sizzles in the sun
And their skins succumb
To the lash of callous whips


Fatimah's YouTube reading of "Whips"


Fatimah confesses: "The inspiration for this poem came from a course I recently took on slavery and colonial history in school."

FATIMAH AKANBI writes fiction and poetry. She has been writing since she was five, and is currently pursuing a degree in Information Technology at the University of Ilorin. Her works have appeared or are forthcoming on Sudden Flash, Star*Line, and Academy of the Heart and Mind. She is @legendary.scribe on Instagram.

Robert Cooperman

HARVARD'S UNOFFICIAL COPY OF MAGNA CARTA IS ACTUALLY AN ORIGINAL

Eighty years ago Harvard Law School
purchased it at auction for $27.50
and let what they thought was a copy

barely worth the parchment it was scrivened on
languish in a vault, the story begins.
But rather than reading how the artifact

was recently verified as one of the original
seven “Magna Cartas,” what I’m curious about
is how much it would go for today, my head

ringing like Wile E. Coyote hit by an anvil,
to think the last Original sold at auction
for twenty-one million, and how, fittingly,

all those zeroes could help Harvard battle
the current regime: trying to strip us
of Habeas Corpus: the right not to be thrown

into prison (or exile) on the whim of a man
who can snap his fingers or bark at an underling,
and have anyone he pleases, or who’s displeased him,

tossed into prison in a country that will gladly torture
or just kill the poor bastard. As for King John
signing that document, a traitor to his brother-rulers.


Gerald So's YouTube reading of "Harvard's Unofficial Copy..."


Cooperman confesses: "There's a Looney Tunes cartoon I saw as a kid: about a mountain lion and another animal (can't remember what it is, but a prey animal) chasing each other through the Grand Canyon, the former wild to eat the latter, who's wild to escape. Anyway, they manage to destroy the Canyon in about a hilarious minute. the park ranger upbraids them both with: what took Nature millions of years to create, you both destroyed in a minute, to their heads hanging in shame. Sound familiar about someone who's currently occupying the White House and what he's done to the country? Except the shame part."

ROBERT COOPERMAN's latest collection is The Death and Rebirth of Ophelia, a retelling of Hamlet, with a slightly happier ending, at least for Ophelia. Steerage is the highly fictionalized story of his grandfather's misadventures on the Lower East Side of New York in the early 20th Century. An Oar for Odysseus is the final collection in Cooperman's lifelong love affair with Odysseus and The Odyssey.