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Summer 2026
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Poetry Samples from the Latest Issue
Second Job
The second shift starts when the first one ends
I change in the car, the uniform
still warm from the dryer. The lot
at the warehouse is already half full
at eleven. Inside, the lights are the same
bright nothing as the ones I left.
I scan and stock until the numbers
on the handheld match the numbers
on my sheet. My hands know the motion
better than they know how to hold
a coffee cup without shaking.
A new guy asks how long I've been here.
I say long enough to stop counting.
At three a.m. the break room smells
of microwave popcorn and someone's
cologne from a day job. We sit
without talking much. One man
show's pictures of his daughter's recital
on his phone. We all lean in
like we are looking at something rare.
Driving home the sky is still dark
but the birds have started. My headlights
catch the deer at the edge of the road
and for a second we both freeze,
two animals deciding whether to run
or keep going. I take my foot off the gas.
The deer steps into the trees
I keep driving toward the house
where the alarm is already set
for the first job's morning.
Robert Haas
By Choice
The last time I clocked out
was the last time. Took my Keurig
and split
The guy who replaced me
makes double my salary, and does
less work. For the record, I left
by choice
But choice is a funny word if they
make it for you
They once told me I could work
there until I died
They have no idea I already did
Cathy Porter
As I Drive by the Empty Factory
Where I Once Worked
I remember that at one time
eleven thousand were employed here
and there were dozens of other factories
in town with thousands on the payroll.
A third of the factory's footprint
is gone, leveled, and the space
replaced by a big box store
a strip mall and a fast food joint.
My point is that Milwaukee
is no longer the machine shop
to the world. What I'm trying to say
is that capitalism sucks.
I worked in a casting department
where molten aluminum at 1100 degrees
was fashioned into parts for small motors.
A department where temperatures routinely
hovered around 140 degrees. But we worked
and our bills were paid, our kids grew up
and there was food on the table, even
a vacation once in a while. And what blue
collar stiff can say that today?.
.
Ed Werstein
An Invitation to Disaster
I hear about natural disasters
And wonder
What it would feel like
To be buried alive
One eye pressed
To a crack of light
My breath compressed
Like a rose
Between pages
Of a closed book
Or trapped in the attic
As the river rises
Faster than I ever
Imagined possible
And the relentless rain
Raining down
As the prayers of the damned
Drown in silence
Or a fire in the canyon
Fumes and rages
And when we return
We find the remains
Of our lives cremated
In a kiln of ruin
Or a wind knocks
Everything down
Yet everything
Keeps howling
As if everything
Wasn't enough
And the free market
Announces that all
You've ever worked for
Is gone
The factory closed
The pension defunct
The health care
Euthanized and
One final catastrophe
Publicly capitalized
Where it resides
Triumphant
In a coffin clutch
Of humble hands
Cast in plastic
Appealing for mercy
A totem an icon
Of man made disaster
Gregg Shotwell
Diana H.
After the picket line,
she plunks the fifty dollars
down on the table
for the striking Amazon workers
all she says she can afford
with her job as a para
and a second job
doing the ATM watch nights
sorry this contribution
so small,
much more if she could.
the cost of raising a daughter so high,
she who has so little
yet gives so much,
those who have so much
and give so little.
Yes, insignificant
I think.
a drop in an ocean,
a grain in the sand,
compared to the universe
of trillions of dollars and rich men,
let alone the struggle
of the millions
that are needed
-- another story --
to replace them
their system
of production for profit
minuscule her act
if looked upon as separate
in the scheme of things
and not rooted in the lives
of all working people
the struggle for jobs and justice,
against war, racism and environmental destruction
ten men on the planet own more
than the poorest half of humanity combined.
Yes, insignificant, I think,
continuing the thread.
and yet somehow
also significant tonight
the way scientists say
the pathway of the universe
can be found
within the quantum
of the smallest rock,
and how the very atom
in the blade of grass
is the building block
of the stars --
Insignificant
Chris Butters
It Can't Happen Here
Sinclair Lewis, the novel thoughtful, worried
people are reading now because: it has happened here.
The novel was written in response
to Populism of Huey Long during the Depression,
that voiced the fears that fascism was taking control
of the country in the guise of anti-Communist rants.
That it could happen here, as in the novel,
rules of law suspended, military/police
state established, "if you see something,
report it." neighborhood watching: the fear
you had yesterday, is today's reality.
So when people start talking about re-establishing
the HUAC, and there's been talk of this,
remember: the people who were called on to
name names: screenwriters, directors, and actors,
people pointed fingers and careers were ruined,
lives ended, prison sentences handed down.
Remember among the instigators, the finger pointers,
was future president of the United States Ronald Reagan,
President Trump's hero.
Remember this is 2026 and what can't happen here,
is happening now. That Trump learned from the best,
McCarthy's right-hand man, Roy Cohn, who believed;
"if they hit you, hit them back, twice as hard."
Even if you are wrong.
Especially if you are wrong.
It doesn't matter that McCarthy was voted out
of office, his committee shut down and he died
shortly thereafter of alcoholism.
Or that Cohn was later disbarred and disgraced,
his legacy lives on.
Alan Catlin
Time to Rock
The guy in the big lifted pick up truck rolled coal sending unburnt diesel plumes to show their anger and hatred of us
No one warns you that fascism wrapped in testosterone and toxic masculinity appeals to lots of working class white men
As we stand with our signs and our voices now a year and more protesting trump's assault on the working class, Power for what?
shoveling our unpaid wages into the bottomless bucket of the boss's greed and lust for power --
Power for what?
Raping and killing kids for kicks
No accountability
Firing hundreds of thousands of federal workers impoverishing families
Kidnapping kids and adults with brown faces to deport to the worst places in the world
Waging unwarranted war across the world
From Venezuela to Iran to the open Caribbean Sea and the Strait of Hormuz
Beginning their effort to purge and punish their enemies
They're already tracking and watching our movements
This is fascism taking hold in America
But we the working class will have the last say
Our children are angry and cynical and radical
Let us start the war for real democracy, democracy of wealth
New York City put down the gauntlet of justice for all of us
This summer is time to rock!!!
Stewart Acuff
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