I am honored to announce that Zumwalt’s recent poem, “take this,” has been selected by the editors of Ink Sweat and Tears as one of their six nominees for pick of the month.
You can read all six selections here:
https://inksweatandtears.co.uk/january-2026-pick-of-the-month/
After reading, if you wish to vote just click on the Vote Here URL that is shown before the text of the six entries.
Gibbon and Toynbee bump into Spengler at Starbucks
Steel glass shafts
Glint skyward
Glittering silver deceptively erect
Yet reality is whispered
With salient impotence
In sequins, basking
They are ripe for a gaudy technicolor cave-in
To a Muzak score
Rotten props, rotten struts, rotten foundations
Polished pillars once
We’ve lost the varnish
And revel in the grease-spots
And ember-burns
While concealing our leprous nudity
in faded Purple
Thus we pursue Byzantium
At a break-neck stagger into the nitre trough
To be the feast of Seljuk flies
Humming 4-chord progressions
Rotten rags, rotten flesh, rotten sensibilities
No phoenix pyre
The red of flame metamorphosed to rust
And blue-bright iron
Decays to dust
Rubble spawning weeds
And housing ravenous mandible-clapping insects
Living but to shun the day
And suck the husk
Of desiccated brains
—Zumwalt (around 1978?)
He eyed up the ice for the steal,
Which he claimed he would do with much zeal,
But now he’s retreating
From his warlike chest beating—
He calls this the art of the deal.
— zumwalt (1/22/2026, revised 1/28/2026)
“China wedding goes viral as twin brothers marry twin sisters and both sides have twin uncles.”
Relativity
Two sisters, identical twins,
Wed brothers with big matching grins.
The household now shares
Their uncles in pairs,
But that’s not where chaos begins.
— zumwalt (1/22/2026)
“President Donald Trump, on Wednesday, January 21, 2026, scrapped the tariffs that he threatened to impose on eight European nations to press for U.S. control over Greenland, pulling a dramatic reversal shortly after insisting he wanted to get the island ‘including right, title and ownership.’”
News Story: https://apnews.com/article/trump-davos-housing-greenland-gaza-a2f3f4c18ba321c8025a3e208fc0ddf6
The Art of Repeal
He eyed up the ice for a deal,
Which he swore he could buy or would steal,
But now he’s retreating
From his warlike chest beating,
as if it had all been surreal.
— zumwalt (1/22/2026)
With the start of 1926, the Jazz Age, the Roaring Twenties, and the Fox Trot rage continued.
Jazz records were often given the default label of “Fox Trot.” I had the good fortune to be able to listen to several of my grandfather’s jazz 78s, with the majority of them labelled “Fox Trot” — a catch-all label for popular music that de-emphasized the more scurrilous connotations some associated with “hot jazz.”
Two such “Fox Trot” recordings of merit were of the popular song “Dinah,” written in 1925, and recorded a few times in late 1925.
This first Jan. 1926 recording, is by one of my favorite jazz ensembles, The Fletcher Henderson Orchestra:
Another notable recording of “Dinah” features the first recording of the slap bass technique (bassist Steve Brown) at around the 2:20 mark:
And here are some visuals of Fox Trot dancing captured on film — spanning the 1920s and possibly early 1930s:
And speaking of films, The Sea Beast, starring John Barrymore, had its New York City premiere on January 15, 1926. This was the first film adaptation of one of the great American novels, Moby Dick, with the additional modification to the plot to, of course, include a love interest for Captain Ahab! Enough said.
And since we are on films, we have to mention that John Logie Baird gave the first public demonstration of a true television system in London. It wasn’t just shadows; it was a greyscale image with moving details.
Also in January 1926, physicist Erwin Schrödinger published his famous paper (Quantisierung als Eigenwertproblem) containing the foundation of the Schrödinger equation: iℏ (∂Ψ/∂t) = ĤΨ. This birth of wave mechanics replaced the idea that particles revolve around the atom like sub-microscopic planets. Instead, it revealed that they behave as waves — what we now understand as clouds of probability. No one can say where an electron is; we can only calculate the likelihood of finding it at some given location as alluded to in Zumwalt’s 2011 poem, Particle Show.
Of course, I need to mention progressive rock whenever I can: George Martin, the so-called fifth Beatle, and a pivotal contributor to the Beatles’ progressive sound, and by extension, to progressive rock in general, was born on January 3, 1926.
Three Zumwalt poems were published as featured content today at The Good Men Project: https://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/faceoff-on-facebook/
This is quite an honor to have three lengthy poems of this level of density and abstraction published on a high-traffic site like The Good Men Project. Please visit if you have a minute.
This is a highly visited online publication per Gemini AI: “The Good Men Project: ~2 – 3 Million monthly visitors (varies by source, sometimes listed as 1.9M unique visitors)“
FYI -- the formatting for "roads closed" was lost when posted on their site.
Here is the original formatting for this one poem of the three that couldn't be presented as intended:
Roads closed
Initiating Wednesday's walk,
forecasted clear skies invitingly promise
an encouraging outing
past the open door
into childhood,
a muddy playground of grimy, tarnished trinkets,
hand-me-down souvenirs,
and overexposed negatives,
then the path
leading
to the
classroom
and its subjects:
Karen,
Gordon,
Bruce,
Janet,
Jane,
and that guy that got into trouble now and then.
Oh, yeah, that was me.
There are uncountable, unaccountable potholes
taunting my feet,
one of which, always, unexpectedly,
gets caught in their hidden recesses:
forward momentum
turned into
brutal falls.
There are alley ways:
narrow, some unpaved,
that once entered,
and
encountering
an
un-
navigable
dead end
, are
a
bear
to
back
out
—
simply
un-ne-go-ti-a-ble
I visited the city of our first year
—together—
as I often do...
but now
vanished
is much of
the interior
of that corner café
where we first met:
its outside signage
rusted and illegible.
Gone are one, two places where we together
—arms locked—
stretched
our budget
to buy groceries.
Only that first store remains
the other
now
missing
now
vague mysteries
the apartment is still there
but not the stairs
were there elevators
in our wing?
ever?
There had to be
but they are just
walls now...
Moving on to our
second city
I find much less:
gone are most roads
not sure who the
president was
of the HOA,
the White House.
Don't ask me of the cities in-between
I am lucky to know this one
but yet —
who called to see us yesterday?
I can remember my first kiss at six
but not who last rang the doorbell.
Echoes
scurry about
sniffing the decay,
detritus,
and their own
droppings,
quickly
down
gutter
holes
and cellar openings:
now but an uninvited, unwanted
tourist in the ruins
clutching the few remaining pages
of a guidebook
with print
too small.
The clouds have gathered.
Flashes and flashbacks peek out,
fearful of the shadows their own light casts.
They can't craft an outline,
a paragraph, a complete sentence.
I don't know what I don't know,
I never have —
but I do remember what I don't
remember
and no amount of
careful
remodeling
will ever set that right.
— zumwalt (2025)
White Russians with White Vodka
The sky peers out over
its trailing cape, wide and pallid,
obscuring the meridian,
erasing the horizontal arguments
of Kamchatka avenues.
Don’t check your map:
it will look much the same as in summer;
it won’t show flurries,
blizzards, cyclones,
meter upon meter
of accumulated snowbanks—
You will not see the swallowed
Lada Grantas, Kia Rios,
Toyota Prados, Cherry Tiggos.
Once one could have turned on a TV
late at night
and seen snow—
now politicians,
talking heads,
social media
whitewash and whitenoise us
non-stop:
ultimately,
we will be head deep,
unable to plow out,
and even Kamchatka
will seem like
a tropical paradise.
–zumwalt (January 2026)
Based on today’s news https://asianmail.in/2026/01/19/record-breaking-snowfall-in-russia-extreme-snow-buries-towns-in-kamchatka/ and this dVerse post’s call to action: https://dversepoets.com/2026/01/20/poetics-new-year-snow/
Concept of a Plan
Here is “The Great Healthcare Plan,”
The finest concept known to man.
No need to think of how this works
Or who this helps and who this hurts.
This policy is the greatest, most wonderful healthcare dream,
The biggest savings anyone has ever known or seen.
We’ll slash the drugs, making deals with forced consent,
By three hundred, four hundred — five hundred percent!
We can’t pay off the middle men,
That’s up to you to do, my friend.
If you need more to make you well,
Then just follow our plan,
straight to…
well…
straight to where I might one day dwell.
— zumwalt (January 2026)
News stories:
https://www.npr.org/2026/01/15/nx-s1-5678654/trump-great-healthcare-plan-video-announcement-aca-premiums https://www.cnn.com/2026/01/15/politics/trump-health-care-plan
A sure bet
The pick and roll is part of play,
And catch what coach has got to say.
But there’s a more important task:
Collecting bags of major cash.
You miss the shot, you miss the rim,
While placing bets outside the gym.
We take the bribe to slip and fall,
No cap, it’s part of basketball.
We fill the jerseys up with green,
The wildest flex you’ve ever seen.
We pray the Feds don’t watch the game,
Or we’ll get cooked and take the blame.
It’s great to hang with looks that slay,
To drive the whips and soak the rays.
To hit the clubs and play the field,
To party hard and never yield.
But danger lurks in losing games,
Not from the fans or public shame:
Don’t leave behind some mid-wit tell,
That turns your set-up into some
cringey,
grungy,
hoopless cell.
— zumwalt (January 2026)
New Story:
https://www.cnn.com/2026/01/15/sport/basketball-charges-gambling-scheme
zumpoems 